Moony's Story
by Avery-Lou
Summary: Remus Lupin was just an average boy, except for one furry little problem. From his first full moon at Hogwarts all the way to graduation, come experience the ups and downs with everyone's favorite werewolf.
1. September 1971: Gryffindor

**A/N: This is intended to be a companion collection to my on-going "James Potter" series, which tells the story of the Marauders' years at Hogwarts. This collection will tell Remus' side of the story. This installment can more or less stand alone, but you should know that it fits into a larger story, and some later chapters will make no sense if you aren't reading the "James Potter" series.**

**But for now, I am proud to present the first installment of Moony's Story, a rather long oneshot focusing on the first full moon of Remus Lupin's Hogwarts career. Coincides with _James Potter and the Immortal Icon_, chapters 6-8.**

* * *

**September 1971**  
_**Gryffindor**_

_"Hmm… well, isn't this interesting?"_

_ "What is?"_

_ "You, Remus Lupin. This is the first time I've ever Sorted a…"_

_ "A monster."_

_ "A werewolf."_

_ "Same thing."_

_ "Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not. Not _my _place to say, surely. Now, to the task at hand. You've got a fine mind – a very fine mind, indeed."_

_ "Don't put me in Ravenclaw."_

_ "No?"_

_ "No."_

_"Why not?"_

_"I... I knew a Ravenclaw once, and I don't want to be like him. How about Hufflepuff? I'd like that."_

_ "No, not Hufflepuff, not quite. And you're right – Ravenclaw's not for you either, I think. You've got a fine heart and a fine mind, to be sure, but it's your spirit that really sets you apart. How many young witches and wizards do you suppose have been bitten before their eleventh birthday? And not a one of them has made it to where you are now."_

_ "That's because Dumbledore—"_

_ "—did what many Heads before him have done: open Hogwarts to all with magical talent, regardless of name or status or condition. You are not the first werewolf to be extended an offer to study within these old walls, merely the first to accept. It takes courage to defy the prejudice and injustice stacked against those like you."_

_ "I'm not so brave as you think."_

_ "We'll see, young werewolf. We'll see. If you've no more complaints, then I think it's got to be… GRYFFINDOR!"_

-.-.-

Courage. Chivalry. Daring. The traits of the quintessential Gryffindor. Traits that Remus Lupin, werewolf, did not possess in the slightest.

Daring: the bravado of a young boy doing something idiotic, heedless of the consequences. Plain to see in people like James Potter and Sirius Black, who on the first day of classes had made enemies with the entire house of Slytherin for no reason whatsoever. But Remus? The last bit of daring-do Remus had perpetrated had left him mauled by a werewolf and marked as an outcast for the rest of his natural life.

Chivalry: respectful conduct toward a lady or, more generally, honesty and noble sacrifice befitting a knight who lived for a glorious death. If there was ever an eleven-year-old boy capable of poise and consideration when dealing with the opposite sex, Remus was certainly not it. He could hardly look most girls in the eye and ran the other way when any tried to corner him. And honesty? Now _there_ was a laughable thought. Remus – the werewolf masquerading as a wizard, lying to an entire school about what he was – _honest_? Maybe in another lifetime.

Courage: fearlessness in the face of danger or opposition. Now, danger and opposition Remus had to spare. It came with the whole lycanthropy package. But fearlessness…?

A true Gryffindor would manage to sit through an entire lesson without thinking about the full moon looming ever-nearer. Someone with true courage wouldn't wish he were still at home, where everything was familiar and comforting and safe.

A true Gryffindor wouldn't be sitting in the Transfigurations classroom less than a week before the transformation, feigning distraction as his classmates filed out and hoping the professor would speak first so Remus didn't have to figure out how to voice his concerns. James Potter and Sirius Black were the last to leave, as McGonagall had ordered them to clean up the mess they had caused with scorched, half-transfigured matchsticks. As they went, they gave Remus suspicious looks, and Remus wished again to be home with his mother, away from prying eyes and boys who would no doubt turn on him in disgust if they ever discovered his secret.

Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk, occupied with her grading, but she gave Remus a piercing stare over her spectacles, as though waiting for him to speak. Long minutes passed, and Remus' focus on his notes never wavered as he tried to gather his non-existent courage.

After a while, McGonagall stood, still regarding the boy thoughtfully, and said, "I must be going now, Mr. Lupin. If you have something to say to me, now would be the time."

When Remus did not reply, she banished the stack of parchment to a box on her shelf and strode from the room. Remus hesitated only a moment longer before chasing after her. Courage or no, he had to speak to her eventually.

McGonagall raised her eyebrow as Remus trotted up beside her.

"Professor," he said breathlessly, looking around to ensure they were alone. "I'm not sure if you realize, but the full moon will be soon."

"I am aware."

Remus hesitated. The pair continued walking. "And, well, Professor Dumbledore said he had something in place, something to make sure I wouldn't…"

"And so he has. You needn't worry about anything, Mr. Lupin."

"But…" Remus clenched his fists, a thousand thoughts running through his head. What did Remus have to do? Where did he go? Who could he talk to about it? Would Dumbledore's measures be enough? What if the wolf escaped and bit someone? The transformation seemed so close at hand, and yet Remus knew nothing about what would happen that night. "But it's less than a week away!"

"I understand your concern, Mr. Lupin, but I assure you, the Headmaster has arranged everything."

Remus doubted very much whether Professor McGonagall understood his concern, but he didn't say anything. "I know," he said instead as they rounded a corner. "I just—"

Whatever he was going to say, it flew out of his head as he caught sight of two crumpled forms lying in the hallway before him. James Potter lay stiff as a board on the stone floor, and Sirius Black sat hunched against the wall a few feet away, clutching his stomach.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall cried, hastening forward. "Mr. Black!"

Remus began to tremble, unable to tear his eyes away from his classmates as he staggered forward. "Professor McGonagall… What's happened to them?"

She knelt to check on James, and relaxed almost at once. "He's been hit by Full Body-Bind Curse. Simple enough to remedy. _Rennervate_." At once, James' body lost its rigid set, and he sat up, shaking his head. "Are you alright, Mr. Potter?"

James nodded and turned toward Sirius, who staggered upright. Taking this as an affirmative, McGonagall stood and hurried toward the boy, whose face was twisted in pain. She grabbed his arm to support him and murmured, "_Finite_." Sirius sighed and relaxed, and Professor McGonagall released his arm. "Who did this to you?"

"Nobody," Sirius said gruffly.

"Well you certainly didn't do this to yourselves."

Sirius crossed his arms stubbornly and pouted. "Says who?"

Professor McGonagall did not look amused. "These spells are far beyond your current abilities," she said simply. "Besides which, Mr. Potter doesn't even have his wand out, and yours, Mr. Black – _Accio_ – is lying much too far away to be of any use to you." She caught Sirius' wand easily, her eyes never leaving Sirius' face.

"Maybe it was accidental magic."

"Remarkably focused for accidental magic, don't you think?" McGonagall handed over his wand, and Sirius pocketed it, looking annoyed.

James stared at Sirius, an unreadable expression on his face. "Can we go?"

"I really wish you would tell me what happened." McGonagall waited, but neither boy spoke. "Very well. But if you change your mind, you know where my office is. Go get some rest, Mr. Black. Nasty work, that Stinging Hex." She turned and gestured to Remus. "Come along, Mr. Lupin."

Remus followed obediently as Professor McGonagall strode down the hall, although he turned once to stare back toward James and Sirius, who watched them go. When they were alone again, McGonagall resumed their discussion as though nothing had happened.

"Everything is ready for next week. Someone will come fetch you when it is time. Until then, just carry on as normal, alright?"

With a sigh, Remus nodded and drifted away, not reassured in the slightest.

-.-.-

The rest of the week flew by far too quickly. Soon Monday arrived, the day of the full moon, and still no one had told Remus what the evening would bring. He woke feeling sluggish and sore, but forced himself down to the Great Hall for breakfast, and from there to Potions, which was a nightmare, as Remus found it hard to think straight and messed up even more than normal. Then it was Defense and lunch, by which time Remus was beginning to feel queasy. He picked at a slice of bread and ignored the hum of conversation around him, wishing the day would just end already.

Remus slept through History of Magic – the first time he'd ever done such a thing, and when he woke, he was horrified at what he had done. But he was weak and shaky, and Professor Binns was boring on a good day, and Remus quite simply hadn't been able to resist a nap.

He was looking forward to returning to his dormitory for a proper rest, but it was not to be; the first years were to start flying lessons that afternoon. Remus had no choice but to trudge down to the training grounds with his classmates and struggle through the next hour. The full moon's effects were making themselves known in earnest, however, and Remus had to focus hard to hear Madam Hooch's instructions. He felt faint and hot and nauseous, as though he had caught a bad bout of the flu, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave the ground.

But he had no choice. Cursing brooms and moons and professors, Remus suffered through three-quarters of an hour of bobbing around and trying not to be sick. The end was finally in sight when tragedy struck.

Gilderoy Lockhart, a Ravenclaw in Remus' year who was proving to be a bit of a showoff, came careening out of nowhere. Remus couldn't have avoided him if he tried; they collided, and Remus was knocked from his broom. He landed with a stab of pain and cradled his left arm to his chest. He'd broken enough bones to know at once what the pain meant, but he bit back a moan as the other students gathered around him.

Lily Evans, a bright girl who liked to study with Remus, came stumbling over, looking terrified. "Oh my god! Are you alright?"

Remus tried to force a smile for her. "Yeah… I think it's broken." He made to sit up, but Madam Hooch held him down.

"Lie still," she ordered. "You may have more than a simple broken arm, after a fall like that."

Deciding it was best not to argue, Remus fell back, noticing with some dismay the glares the other students were sending toward Gilderoy. _Don't be mad_, he wanted to say. _I'd have fallen anyway._ But he kept his mouth shut as Madam Hooch sent Gilderoy on some errand, lifted Remus onto a stretcher, and instructed the class to remain on the ground.

Eyes falling closed, Remus let himself be swept off toward the castle, up a flight of stairs, and into the Hospital Wing, where the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, came to fret over him. Madam Hooch was shooed out, and Madam Pomfrey set to work at once, mending his arm with a wave of her wand and checking him over for any other injuries, of which she found none.

Madam Hooch returned a few minutes later with Professor McGonagall, who gazed at Remus with a look of mild alarm.

"You're right, Rolanda," Professor McGonagall said to Madam Hooch. "He does look ill. Mr. Lupin, are you quite alright?"

Remus mumbled an affirmative, but none of the three women gathered around him looked convinced.

"Alright?" Madam Pomfrey tutted. "_Alright?_ A spill like that and a touch of the flu besides? I should think he's a far cry from alright! How long have you been feeling out of sorts, dear?"

"Since this morning." Remus stared at his hands so that he wouldn't have to look at any of them. "I always get this way the day of."

He heard them suck in their breath as one, and a long beat of silence passed. Remus bowed his head lower still. Then Professor McGonagall spoke, her words hitting Remus like an accusation.

"Why on earth were you flying in your condition?"

"I…" Remus swallowed thickly, feeling more wretched than ever. He wanted to go home, to fall into his mother's arms and let her hold him and make him believe that everything would be okay. "I thought…" Why had he thought he could do this – could come to Hogwarts like a normal boy? He would never be normal, no matter how desperately he wished it. "You said to carry on like normal," he whispered miserably. "Someone would come get me."

It was another long while before anyone spoke, and Remus debated burying himself under the sheets of the bed he sat on, curling up and pretending this day had all been one long nightmare.

At length, Madam Hooch cleared her throat. "I should go. The other children are waiting for me, and it's clear Mr. Lupin is in no condition to return to the air today."

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey made small sounds of agreement, and Madam Hooch left, the thud of the door behind her ushering in another swollen silence.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lupin," Professor McGonagall said softly. "If I had known…" Remus cringed. Of course; he should have told her. He just hadn't thought of it. The misery of the full moon was such a constant in his life that he could hardly imagine anyone not knowing about it. McGonagall hastened on: "But of course it isn't your fault."

Relief bursting in his chest, Remus glanced up. "It isn't?"

"Not at all," Professor McGonagall assured him. "I'll admit my experience with lycanthropy is sorely limited. I didn't know…"

"Nor I," Madam Pomfrey said softly, stepping forward to make Remus lie down. "If I had, I would have taken you out of your classes."

"No!" Remus cried, jerking upright in alarm. "I can't miss class! I'll fall behind! I'll– I'll—" The other students would notice. They would start to whisper about him, and soon everyone would know his secret, and he would have to leave Hogwarts. And as much as spending the full moon among strangers scared him, he didn't want to be run out of the castle.

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and sighed. "Your commitment to your education is admirable, Mr. Lupin, but you must also consider your health."

"I'm fine!" he argued. "I won't fly before a full moon again, I swear, but I can still go to class! It isn't really bad until the evening, anyway!"

"It gets worse?" Madam Pomfrey said sharply, and Remus flinched.

"A little."

Professor McGonagall's stern composure wavered, and a bit of pity shone in her eyes. "There's no need to discuss this just now," she said gently. "Rest; I'll tell your classmates Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep you overnight after your mishap. Just rest."

She stared at Remus as though expecting him to argue further, but at the moment rest sounded splendid to him, so he merely nodded. Professor McGonagall exchanged a meaningful look with Madam Pomfrey, and then she left, and Madam Pomfrey coaxed Remus into a nap, promising to wake him before the transformation came.

-.-.-

The sun had not yet set when Madam Pomfrey roused him, but the shadows were long, the sky tinged with red. Remus sat up at once.

"Slowly," Madam Pomfrey instructed. "There's no rush; we've plenty of time. Professor Dumbledore will be here shortly."

_Professor Dumbledore?_ Remus wondered. The Headmaster himself was coming to see him? Remus perched on the edge of his bed and swung his feet, trying not to fidget too much. His body had begun to shake like it always did in the hours before the transformation, and he wondered for the thousandth time where he would spend the night. The dungeons? One of the unused towers? Somewhere on the grounds?

At a knock on the door, both Remus and Madam Pomfrey jumped, and the nurse scuttled off to see who it was.

"Headmaster!" she breathed, and Remus tried to relax. For a moment, he'd thought one of his classmates had come to see him. But tall, silver-haired Dumbledore stepped into the room with a kind smile and crossed to Remus' bed.

"Good evening, Mr. Lupin," he said softly. "Or perhaps not so good. How are you feeling?"

Remus shrugged. Truthfully, he was feeling miserable, but he didn't want to sound petulant. Professor Dumbledore had already been kinder by far than Remus had any right to expect – he'd allowed Remus to come to Hogwarts, had sworn to keep his secret, had prepared appropriate defenses to ensure an uneventful transformation. What right did Remus have to complain of a few aches and an upset stomach?

"I'm fine."

Dumbledore's smile turned sad, and Remus got the feeling that the wizened old man with the twinkle in his eyes knew exactly what Remus was thinking. But surely that was just Remus' imagination.

In any case, Professor Dumbledore soon checked his watch and nodded. "It's time we head out. Ready, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus slid off the bed, pausing to gain his balance, and asked, "Where am I going, exactly?"

"We've prepared a house for you, just outside of Hogsmeade."

Having just gathered himself to cross the room, Remus stumbled at the Headmaster's words. A house? A whole house? And in Hogsmeade, the nearby town, full of people, full of so many people he could hurt if he got out. Could a house really hold a werewolf in check, he wondered?

Professor Dumbledore laughed softly. "No need to look so anxious, Mr. Lupin. It will be perfectly safe. But come. It will be easier to show you."

He led Remus out of the Hospital Wing into the silent corridor beyond, and Madam Pomfrey trailed along behind them. Remus could feel her watchful eye on the back of his head and tried not to sway too much as he walked. No need to alarm the poor woman.

As they made their way down to the Entrance Hall and out into the gathering twilight, Professor Dumbledore explained that Madam Pomfrey would escort him to the house in Hogsmeade each month, and that it was up to Remus when he came to the Hospital Wing. If he wasn't feeling up to attending lessons, the Headmaster assured him, the professors would understand. If he hadn't shown up by eight o'clock, then Madam Pomfrey would come find him. They wanted him to be settled in the house well before the transformation took him.

Since their destination was evidently Hogsmeade, Remus expected them to turn down the path to the gates, through which the Hogsmeade road ran, but Professor Dumbledore set off toward the lake instead. Curious, Remus hurried after him, a dozen questions bursting in his head. But he held his tongue, trusting Dumbledore to explain it all in due time.

"Do you remember my announcements at the start-of-term feast, Mr. Lupin?" Professor Dumbledore said as they climbed a bluff toward a large and twisted tree.

Remus eyed the tree warily and swallowed. "The Whomping Willow?"

"Indeed. Our first line of defense." Holding his wand aloft, Professor Dumbledore gave a short little wave, and a long pole appeared in midair. This Dumbledore caught easily and directed toward the tree. The great, gnarled branches stirred ominously, but Dumbledore paid them no heed. With the end of the pole, he prodded at the Willow's trunk, and at once the tree fell deathly still.

"There is a certain knot," Professor Dumbledore explained as he let the other two toward the trunk. "If it is pressed, the Willow will freeze for a moment or two – long enough to get in or out without taking a beating." The Headmaster chuckled and disappeared through a hole among the roots. Remus followed uncertainly, landing in a heap in a small dirt tunnel that, by the light of Professor Dumbledore's wand, Remus could see was long and narrow, its ceiling so low that Dumbledore had to stoop to fit.

"It is quite impossible to see the knot if one does not know it is there," the man continued as Madam Pomfrey dropped to the ground beside Remus, who was now struggling to stand. Madam Pomfrey helped him to his feet, and Remus smiled gratefully at her.

They set off down the tunnel in single file, and walked for so long Remus' legs began to feel like jelly. He stumbled twice before Madam Pomfrey wrapped an arm around his shoulders and supported him, making small, worried noises in the back of her throat. Remus was reminded forcibly of his mother, who half carried him to the cellar each month for the full moon, who seemed to hurt nearly as much as he did at the effect the lycanthropy wrought on him, both before and after the transformation itself.

Remus wasn't sure how long they walked, but it felt like hours to him, weak and ill as he was, and when at last Dumbledore came to a halt, it took all Remus' self control not to sigh aloud.

Professor Dumbledore reached up to open a trapdoor overhead, which swung upward into a large, black space. Remus went up first, with considerable help from the adults, and stared around at the space as Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore followed him through.

Remus couldn't tell if the two-story house was infinitely old or brand new. Everything was in pristine condition, the brass fixtures gleaming in the light from Dumbledore's wand, the curtains a cheery blue. And yet it had the feel of a place long-abandoned. Perhaps it was the boards on all the windows, or the covers over all the furniture, or just the eerie stillness that filled the darkness. For all Remus knew, he might be the first living being to ever set foot in this place. Or it could be haunted with a violent spirit to keep the wolf company tonight.

Professor Dumbledore talked for a while, explaining all the protective charms he had placed on the house, and how the only entrance was past the Whomping Willow and the trap door, which he was certain the wolf would never get open, even without the locks and charms that would be placed on it as soon as Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey left.

Though Remus tried to pay attention, his mind drifted as the pre-transformation illness crested in waves, leaving him on the verge of collapse. Madam Pomfrey fretted over him, seeming not to pay Professor Dumbledore the slightest bit of notice. Eventually, the Headmaster dragged her away, sealing Remus in for the night, and left him alone with his thoughts.

The first thing Remus did was undress, storing his clothes and his wand in the cupboard under the stairs, where he hoped they would be safe from the wolf's rampage. He knew how destructive he could be in that form, and he was certain his mother wouldn't be able to buy him a new wand and robes every month. After this, he found a sparsely-furnished room on the ground floor and lay on the floor to await the change. He'd never had furniture to destroy, but he was sure the wolf would manage it, and he would feel guilty ruining everything in the house from the start.

The strangest part was not being chained up, as he always was at home. He'd hesitated to bring it up with Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, who he thought surely had everything under control. If they didn't feel the need to chain him up, then he would trust them to not let the wolf escape.

His thoughts chased themselves in circles – Professor Dumbledore, Hogwarts, and Madam Pomfrey blurred into his mother, the cellar back home, and chains. Anxiety churned within him, and he rocked back and forth on the ground, trying to calm himself.

And then the agony of transformation rose to swallow him

-.-.-

He woke slowly, blinking in the gray pre-dawn light.

The first thing he noticed was that he had moved. The room he had transformed in had a rickety bed and a wardrobe in the corner, but at some point, he had left that room. He now lay on a couch in an unfamiliar room littered with feathers and stuffing from the cushions he had shredded. A broken chair had toppled into the wall, and from the looks of it, the wolf had spent the last stretch of night gnawing on one of the legs, which now rested in the crook of Remus' elbow, pitted with toothmarks and slimy with saliva.

His throat felt raw, which wasn't in itself unusual; the screams and howls usually left him hoarse in the morning. But this time, Remus swore he felt splinters running from his lips clean down to his stomach.

_Don't be an idiot_, he chided himself, pushing the chair leg weakly away. _You're being dramatic. Nothing's different this time._

This was far from the truth, of course, but Remus did not like to make a habit of arguing with himself. Vaguely aware that Madam Pomfrey would be coming for him, and that he was stark naked, Remus tried to gather himself. If he could make it to the cupboard under the stairs, he could at least get his pants on before the nurse arrived.

With this thought in mind, he gathered himself and struggled to an upright position. He was torn up, as always – bites and claw marks littered his body over the already nearly solid web of scars, and a particularly bad bite to his left knee would make walking difficult, but for once he didn't have any broken bones. If he kept his weight on his right leg, he could make it.

Nevertheless, it took ten minutes and no fewer than a dozen attempts to gain his feet, and he swayed on the spot when he finally succeeded. He realized distantly that he'd never stood so soon after the full moon. At home, his mother always came and carried him to his bed, where he usually slept for several hours. But his mother wasn't here to coddle him, and he had classes this morning that he couldn't afford to miss.

And so Remus forced himself to stumble toward the door, down a corridor spotted with blood from the night before, and to the top of the flight of stairs. Here he paused, staring dizzily at what would make for a very long tumble if he lost his balance.

He took a deep breath and, leaning heavily on the railing, began to limp down.

_There. This isn't so bad. Just take it slow. Just…_

Halfway down, the dizziness hit, and Remus stopped, clutching at the railing in a desperate effort to make the house stop spinning. His vision grew fuzzy, and he pitched forward—

The next thing he knew, he was lying at the bottom of the stairs, in even more pain than before, staring up at a pale, blurry face. He let out a groan.

"Hush now," Madam Pomfrey whispered, smoothing back his fringe. "Lie still. It's over. I've got you."

She dabbed at his forehead with something wet, and Remus let out a hiss as a cut over his eye stung. He wondered dully whether the cut had happened in the night, or when he fell down the stairs. Not that it really mattered. One scar more or less would hardly matter in the end.

He tried to relax as Madam Pomfrey worked, and mostly succeeded, except when she first turned to the wounds on his legs and Remus remembered that he was still naked. But Madam Pomfrey would not have him moving about to preserve his dignity and so, blushing furiously, he screwed his eyes shut and tried not to think about it.

Madam Pomfrey worked quickly and retrieved Remus' clothes and wand from the cupboard he indicated. She helped him into his pants and trousers, wrapped him in a cloak, and all but carried him back to the tunnel that led to the Whomping Willow. Sunrise was still some time away, and the grounds were deserted. The cool mist hanging over the lake swept up towards Remus and Madam Pomfrey as they emerged from the tree. Remus shivered, and Madam Pomfrey pulled him into a hug that, though perhaps not as warm as his mother's, brought comfort just the same.

Breakfast had not yet begun, but Madam Pomfrey led Remus to a quieter entrance just in case, then hustled him up to the Hospital Wing and hid him behind a curtain in the corner bed. Once he was settled, she began her work in earnest, mending what she could and treating the rest with an array of steaming potions and smelly ointments. In the end, he was left nearly mummified with crisp white bandages.

She finally finished half an hour before Charms was due to start.

"Go to class?" she cried when he asked for permission to leave. "In _this_ condition?" She waved her arms to indicate his battered form, the crisp white peeking out from the collar of his shirt, which he'd left unbuttoned, as the bandages themselves came near enough to choking him. He thought if someone tried to wrestle him into a tie, he might just use it to throttle them.

"I'll be alright," Remus assured her, sitting up a bit straighter to demonstrate his complete and miraculous recovery. "It's just class."

Madam Pomfrey gave him a dubious look, as though weighing the likelihood of the boy hopping on a broom for another joyride. Or perhaps she thought class a more dangerous affair than transforming into a werewolf in the dead of night; Remus couldn't tell.

"Please?" Remus tried his best to look charming, although he wasn't sure he succeeded. "I've had worse transformations than this one, and it's never helped me to lie around in bed." This was not, strictly speaking, the truth; Remus had never been able to drag himself out of bed before noon on the day after a full moon, but he figured he could manage. It _was_ only Charms, after all. It wasn't as though Professor Flitwick included muggle brawling on his syllabus.

"I don't know if that's a good idea…"

But Remus would not relent. He begged and reasoned and swore up and down that he wouldn't push himself and would come straight back if he started feeling lightheaded or tired or ill or any such thing. "And if I go around missing a full day of classes every month," he added, not having to feign the panic that crept into his voice, "then people will start to wonder, and someone might figure out what I am, and then—"

"No one will discover your secret, Mr. Lupin," Madam Pomfrey assured him. After a long moment, she sighed. "Very well. So long as you swear you won't overexert yourself—"

"I swear!"

"—then you can go to class. _But_—" she added swiftly as Remus stood up. "I make no promises about next month. If you turn up looking like you did yesterday, I may have to lock you away until you're fully recovered."

Remus didn't bother to tell her that if she wanted to wait for a full recovery, he might as well withdraw from Hogwarts right now, for four weeks never seemed quite long enough to forget the pain of the last transformation. Instead, he accepted his school bag from Madam Pomfrey, tottered out the door, fixing his robes and shoving his wand and tie into his pocket, and headed for the stairs.

He had planned on returning to Gryffindor Tower for his Charms book, but by the time he reached the third floor where they had lessons with Professor Flitwick, he was panting and aching and decided not to bother. He saw that half the class had already arrived, including Lily Evans, who lit up when she saw him at the end of the corridor.

"Remus!" she cried, running toward him. Remus tensed, half expecting her to crash into him, but she slowed enough that her quick hug only hurt a little. "Are you alright? Oh, Remus, I was so worried! Does it hurt?"

Before Remus could answer, the rest of the first year Gryffindors had gathered around, clapping him painfully on the shoulders, complaining loudly about Gilderoy Lockhart's idiocy, and asking him a hundred questions all at once. Remus assured them all he was alright and tried to squirm away from the attention, wanting nothing more than to reach his desk and collapse. Lily, seeing his face, scowled and told the crowd to give him space. No one heeded her scolding words, and she fumed as she tried to shove them away from Remus. Remus shot her a grateful look and tugged at the collar of his shirt, which still felt uncomfortably tight.

"Come on, guys!" Lily said through gritted teeth, persisting in her efforts to disperse the crowd. "Let him breathe!"

"Are you ever going to fly again?" Alice Howard asked, peering worriedly into Remus' face. "Cause it really _is_ fun, when you don't have bigheaded gits flying into you."

A few people chuckled, and Remus managed a wan smile as he said, "I might give it another go." _When the moon isn't anywhere near full,_ he added to himself.

"Gilderoy ought to be shipped home," Frank Longbottom added, crossing his arms and nodding sagely, as though this were a fact that any reasonable person would see. "He almost killed you!"

"It wasn't so bad," Remus muttered. "And I can't be too mad at Gilderoy. It was just an accident."

"Just an accident caused by a pompous twat!"

Remus turned in surprise to see James Potter walking toward him, a cocky smirk on his face. "I mean look at you! You're half dead!" He made a face and mock-scowled at the other students. "Move along now. You, too, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Catchlove. Give the boy some space."

The students laughed and wandered off, leaving Remus with a clear path to his desk. He tried not to let his immense relief show as he turned to thank James, who merely shrugged and set off for his own desk.

"Keep your eyes on the windows today," James muttered as he passed.

Frowning, Remus watched James go, followed by his best friend Sirius Black. The two boys took up post at the very back of the room with the other Gryffindor boys (Frank Longbottom, Peter Pettigrew, and Alexander Thorne). But Remus didn't pay James or his odd comment too much mind, for his legs were aching, and he mercifully sank into his seat at the front, beside Lily's, without further incident.

The day's lesson was levitation charms, and Remus was having a hard time of it. He couldn't dredge up the focus he needed to perform the charm properly and had to ask Lily for help when, halfway through the class, her feather lifted gracefully into the air.

_Thud._

Remus nearly fell from his seat at the sudden noise and turned to search for the cause.

_Thud_.

His eyes found the window, where he saw Gilderoy Lockhart bobbing on a broom, swaying slightly in the wind that whipped around the corner of the building. Professor Flitwick let out a squeak of fright and sprang toward the window, vanishing the glass. The wind swirled into the classroom, setting parchment fluttering frantically.

"Good morning, Professor!" Gilderoy said brightly.

Professor Flitwick stared at his dangerously unsteady flight. "Mr. Lockhart! Mr. Lockhart, get in here this instant!"

"Yes, of course, Professor. Just one moment."

Not about to let Gilderoy dash himself against the building or fall to the ground three floors down, Professor Flitwick levitated an unoccupied desk toward the window and climbed on top of it to reach out for Gilderoy's broom. "Mr. Lockhart, come here, before you fall!"

Gilderoy swerved away from the professor's grasp, tilting so violently Remus thought he would fall. "It's quite alright, Professor," he said with a daft smile. "I know what I'm doing."

"Mr. Lockhart!"

Remus' heart pounded as Gilderoy struggled to get his broom back under control, and when the rest of the class began to stagger to their feet, Remus did the same. He sprang forward, joining Professor Flitwick at the window, and lurched to seize Gilderoy's broom in both hands. It jerked in his grasp, and Remus was dragged forward, until he was staring out over a dizzying drop, mouth running dry as the previous day's fall resurfaced in his mind.

Several pairs of hands grabbed Remus around the legs – he almost yelped aloud as their fingers dug into the wound on his knee – and pulled him to safety. Remus' hands tightened convulsively on the broomstick, and so Gilderoy, too, wound up inside the classroom, where a shaken, spluttering Professor Flitwick hauled him down to solid ground.

"Remus!" Lily cried, her trembling hands closing around his elbow and guiding him back to his desk. He collapsed there with a hiss of pain mingled with relief and dropped his pounding head into his hands. Lily continued to fuss over him, but he hardly heard her. He could only thing of one thing.

_Keep your eyes on the windows today._

His stomach tied itself in knots as he turned to glance at a very smug-looking James. _You did this?_ he thought angrily, fingers curling into fists. It couldn't have been… James Potter was a foolishly headstrong boy, a bit of a prankster perhaps, but _this?_ Remus shook his head. Surely James wouldn't risk a boy's life just for a few laughs…?

Lily touched his hand. "Remus?" she asked tentatively. "Professor Flitwick's taken Gilderoy to his office. He said we can go."

For another few seconds, Remus didn't react. He slowly realized that the room had emptied aside from himself and Lily. Fear and anger rose up in Remus' chest. James Potter had nearly gotten a boy killed, and what was his punishment? Absolutely nothing.

Remus lurched to his feet and stormed toward the door, limping a bit on his injured knee, which was still throbbing from when he had been dragged back inside the classroom.

"James!" he growled, catching sight of the messy-haired boy in the corridor.

James stopped, along with the other four Gryffindor boys. Remus frowned, wishing they would leave, but he continued walking toward the group.

"What?" James asked with a scowl.

At the look, Remus' nerve faltered. His pace slowed, and he dropped his eyes, wondering what he had been thinking, coming to confront James bloody Potter. "What did you do?" he asked lamely.

"What makes you think we did anything?"

Remus glanced up sharply at Sirius Black's words. The boy wore an easy grin, and Remus felt his anger building again. He turned his eyes to Frank and Peter and Alexander. "So it was all of you?" It was half accusation, half plea. James and Sirius, perhaps, would be foolhardy enough to do something like this, but the others? He didn't want to believe it.

James merely grinned his infuriating grin. "_What_ was all of us?"

Gathering his will, Remus said, "Gilderoy. You're the reason he was flying out there."

"Remus. You wound me!" Sirius smirked as he spoke, and Remus thought he didn't look hurt in the slightest. The werewolf chose not to say anything, just shifted his weight off of his aching knee and considered his dormmates. Only Peter Pettigrew looked at all uncomfortable, and that was more fear of Remus' displeasure than actual remorse. It was as though they all thought the trick or whatever it had been was perfectly acceptable.

James rolled his eyes and said, as though reading Remus' mind, "We didn't do anything _wrong_."

"Frank made sure of that," Sirius added.

They really _didn't_ see. Were they _all_ idiots? The anger festering inside Remus boiled over, and he grit his teeth. "He could have _died_."

For the first time, a look of uncertainty crossed Alexander Thorne's face, but he shook it away. "He wouldn't have fallen much farther than you did. The way the roof sticks out over there, it'd only be a few meters."

"Yeah!" Sirius added, latching onto this line of reasoning. "And he wouldn't have a great bumbling oaf landing on top of him."

"We did it for you, Remus," Peter whispered from behind Frank.

Remus gaped at Peter, the words echoing in his head. _We did it for you, Remus. _Frank was talking now, but Remus hardly heard him. _For you, Remus. We almost killed someone _for you. _Aren't you happy? Aren't you flattered?_

His head was spinning. He glanced from one face to another, each seeming to mock him with their confused expressions. They actually thought he would be _happy_? He'd spent most of his life terrified that someone would die because of him, because of what he was. And here these brave and noble and _daring _boys were, offering as a show of friendship a prank that could have killed someone. True Gryffindors, the whole lot of them.

Remus had never felt less certain of his own Sorting.

It felt like an eternity before he was able to find his voice, but at last he did. "For me?" He suppressed the mad urge to laugh in their faces. "Right, well do me a favor. Don't ever do anything 'for me' again."

And he spun around and stormed back into the Charms classroom, where Lily stood watching him with worried eyes.

"They didn't…? They _couldn't _have…?"

Remus ignored her and limped to his desk, where he shoved his notes into his bag and caught it up, checking the corridor before he left to make sure the others had gone.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of exhaustion and pain. If not for Lily's constant presence, Remus would have retreated to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey's fretful hovering just to get out of seeing James Potter and his friends any more. But it wouldn't be until well after dinner, where he forced down a few mouthfuls of soup, that he finally managed to slip away from Lily and up to his dormitory for sleep that was long overdue.

* * *

**A/N: Again, if you want to see James' side of things, go check out _James Potter and the Immortal Icon_. Thanks for reading, and please review!****  
**


	2. October 1971: Lies

**A/N: Just a short oneshot that takes place during chapter 9 of _James Potter and the Immortal Icon_.**

* * *

**October 1971**  
_**Lies**_

The second full moon Remus spent at Hogwarts went more smoothly than the first by far. Because it fell on a Wednesday, Remus had no choice but to skip the evening's Astronomy lesson, which took place at midnight atop the tallest of Hogwarts' many towers.

But this was an advantage in its own right, for by the time class was over, his dormmates would be far too tired to check Remus' bed. The werewolf made a show of leaving supper early because of an upset stomach – which wasn't exactly a lie – and telling Lily Evans, the closest thing he had to a friend, that he was turning in early. As soon as he left the Great Hall, he sprinted up to Gryffindor Tower to draw shut the curtains around his bed, hoping it would be enough to fool five groggy boys returning at one o'clock in the morning.

After this, he grabbed Thursday's school books and made his way down to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was ready for him. After the previous month's debacle during flying lessons, she was glad to see him whole and mostly healthy. Remus consented to her instructions as she checked him over and gladly lay down to rest when she told him to.

Professor Dumbledore did not turn up this time, but Madam Pomfrey herself led Remus out to the secret passage under the Whomping Willow and along the tunnel to the house in Hogsmeade. Remus had not seen the house properly after his last transformation, and so it came as a bit of a shock when he walked into a half-destroyed sitting room. Long gashes split the couches' white covers (now spotted with crimson), and the tea table had been reduced to splinters. Through half-open doors, he could see similar destruction in the other rooms.

Madam Pomfrey repaired most of the damage with a few distracted waves of her wand, but this did nothing to assuage the uneasy feeling in the pit of Remus' stomach. Back home, where he transformed in an empty cellar, the only testaments to the violence of the wolf were old blood stains and the scars on Remus' own body, which were easy enough to forget once they had begun to heal. To have physical proof in the form of mangled furniture somehow made the whole nightmare seem more real.

Soon enough, Remus was left alone to prepare for the transformation.

-.-.-

He woke to a blinding pain in his arm. When Madam Pomfrey arrived, she informed him that it was a compound fracture, possibly a result of the wolf taking a bad spill when it tried to leap from the first floor landing.

Whatever the cause, it took longer than normal for Madam Pomfrey to mend it, and by the time Remus convinced the nurse to let him go ("Alright, dear, but no promises about next month."), he was a quarter hour late to Transfigurations.

His hopes of a quiet arrival were dashed as soon as he opened the door, when Peter Pettigrew called out, drawing every last eye in the room to Remus. His face flaming, Remus caught Professor McGonagall's eye, and thankfully she preempted any prying questions, enabling Remus to pass the rest of the lesson in peace.

The same could not be said for Herbology.

Feigning illness and drawing the curtains around his bed appeared to have fooled his dormmates the previous evening, but they had noticed his absence when they all got up for breakfast. This revelation startled Remus into spilling a pot of soil, and he busied himself with the cleanup as the others fretted over him.

"You were up early?" Lily asked, surprised.

It was James who answered. "Yeah. He was gone before the rest of us woke up."

Remus wanted to curse himself. _Brilliant _plan that had been, relying on a ruddy curtain to hide his absence.

Lily looked perplexed. "Then why…?"

Avoiding her eyes, he poured an inordinate amount of focus into sweeping every last clump of soil back into the upended flowerpot. "I… I woke up in the middle of the night…" he began, wracking his brain for something – _anything_ – to explain his seeming departure in the dead of night. "I wasn't feeling good— at all— so… I went to the Hospital Wing." _Oh, that's much better than a bleeding_ curtain.

Lily gasped dramatically, and Remus screwed his eyes shut, reflecting that maybe he should have thought of a less remarkable excuse. "Oh my gosh, Remus!" Lily cried. "Are you alright?"

"'m fine." He set the pot down on the workbench rather harder than necessary, and Professor Sprout glanced up. "It wasn't that bad… Just…" _There's got to be a reason to spend the night in the Hospital Wing and not be on your deathbed, right? _"Er, Madam Pomfrey made me stay… Wanted to make sure I was alright…" It sounded plausible, Remus thought, so long as no one went to Madam Pomfrey to double check. She was notorious among students for being domineering.

"Everything alright over here?" Professor Sprout asked, coming up to the workbench.

Remus tried to communicate his panic in a glance. "Fine."

Professor Sprout frowned, and Remus thought she gave him the minutest of nods. After an uncomfortably long silence, she smiled. "Remus, dear, could you help me with something?"

Glad for any excuse to get away from his prying classmates, Remus dashed after the portly professor. She led him to the far end of the greenhouse, where the conversations of the other students faded to a dull murmur. She handed him a large, square frame with a mesh bottom and showed him how to sift out the rocks that got mixed into the soil.

"Everything alright?" she asked in a low voice as she handed him the sieve.

Remus hesitated, for he didn't know the Head of Hufflepuff very well, but Professor Dumbledore had assured Remus at the start of term that all the staff knew of his situation and were available for help at any time.

"They're getting suspicious," he admitted at last, eyes sliding sideways though he dared not turn to look.

"Suspicious?" Professor Sprout asked. "How do you mean?"

With a sigh, Remus told her what had happened – his pathetic attempts to hide his absence, his dormmates' discovery, Lily's concern, and his feeble excuses. "I'm a rotten liar," he concluded glumly, picking at a rock that had been caught in the sieve.

Professor Sprout chuckled and patted his shoulder. "That's not a bad thing, you know."

"It is when you're a…" He paused and glanced around. "When you're like me and you're trying not to get caught."

"Yes, well, that is a problem." For a few moments, Professor Sprout stood in pensive silence, then nodded resolutely. "Well, don't you worry, dear. I'll speak with the other professors. By the time next month rolls around, we'll have a better excuse worked out."

With those words and a mysterious smile, Professor Sprout left him to his work.


	3. December 1971: Homecoming

**A/N: Takes place during chapter 11 of _James Potter and the Immortal Icon._**

* * *

**December _1971_  
_Homecoming_**

Remus had some reservations about telling his friends and classmates that his mother was ill in St. Mungo's. He hated having to make up stories about how she was doing and what the doctors had said and whether he thought she would be okay. He hated the way everyone looked at him with pity and went out of their way to be nice to him.

_They wouldn't act like this if they knew the truth_.

When Professor McGonagall had informed him of the ruse in November, Remus had been sure everyone would see through it straight away and had begged his Head of House to come up with something else. Or maybe he just didn't want to miss class.

But Madam Pomfrey had been insistent. She seemed to be able to tell how tired he was, and that he wasn't letting himself recover as much as usual after his transformations. At home, the full moon usually knocked him out of commission for the better part of two days, but at Hogwarts in the past two months, Remus had cut it down to hardly eighteen hours.

So when the November full moon had rolled around, she'd taken matters into her own hands, come up with a story that would explain why Remus wouldn't be at school all weekend, and all but tied him to the bed in the Hospital Wing. It had meant missing Potions on Friday morning, when the transformation wasn't until that evening – something that drove Remus crazy. To make matters worse, Potions was his worst class, the one he absolutely couldn't afford to fall behind in, werewolf or no.

Once he'd gotten over his frustration, however, he had to admit it was nice to actually rest. He was able to pass Friday in peace, finishing most of his homework before the lycanthropy made it too hard to focus.

He slept almost all day Saturday, to Madam Pomfrey's delight.

So when it came time for December's full moon, the matron was quick to employ the same sick-mother excuse, this time with a caveat that he return home as soon as he was well enough for Floo travel.

"But that means I'll miss a whole week of classes!" Remus cried when Professor McGonagall told him. They were in her office, the door closed, on Thursday afternoon.

"The last week before holidays," the professor agreed. "I assure you, Mr. Lupin, you won't be missing much. Professors Flitwick and Juniper assure me they won't be covering any new material until after the holidays, Professors Sprout and Slughorn have excused you from any assignments they may set, Madam Hooch will conduct your flying test when you return, and Professor Ruche said you can easily complete your Astronomy lesson from home. He'll be by later to discuss it with you."

Remus mentally went over his timetable. "But that still leaves History of Magic and Transfigur—!" He stopped, blushing, as Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow.

She smiled patiently. "I understand the transformation will be Saturday evening?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then I will come see you in the Hospital Wing that morning to cover Professor Binns' and my own lesson."

Remus gasped. "R-really?"

"Of course." Professor McGonagall gave him an odd look, one filled with kindness, which still had the power to surprise Remus. Until a few short months ago, his mother had been the only one to know the truth and still treat him kindly. Now Remus had seen the same look on several professors' faces – Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout – and of course Madam Pomfrey. Even knowing what he was, seeing the aftermath of his transformations, they still treated him like any other student. Perhaps even more warmly than they treated the other students.

Remus couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

"You are a very gifted student, Mr. Lupin," Professor McGonagall went on. "It is not your fault that you have to miss classes. Therefore I plan to do everything in my power to help you stay up on both your physical and academic well-being, without risking exposing your secret. Alright?"

All Remus could do was nod.

-.-.-

The house outside Hogsmeade where Remus spent the night of the full moon was cold that month; Remus could feel the chill of the snowstorm that raged outside as he waited for the change to take him. He didn't mind, much. The cellar back home was colder than this by far, and even that had never killed him.

Nevertheless, the next morning, Madam Pomfrey came earlier than usual, and with thick wool blankets that Remus happily snuggled into while the nurse treated the worst of his injuries – a gaping wound on his foot that screamed at Madam Pomfrey's gentle touch. He suspected he'd chewed off one of his toes last night, but he tried not to dwell too long on this, as the thought made him queasy.

Sunday passed in a groggy and pain-filled stupor until, as evening approached, a familiar voice woke him.

"How is he?"

"Resting," Madam Pomfrey answered. There was a long pause, and Remus suspected something unspoken passed between the two women.

"Can I see him?"

Remus opened his eyes as footsteps approached, and he smiled up at his mother. She returned it tearily and perched on the edge of his bed, smoothing back his hair as she studied his face, which was no doubt a ghostly white.

"Hi, baby," she murmured.

Suddenly Remus was glad Professor McGonagall had convinced him to go home a week early. Without a word, he sat up and flung himself into his mother's arms, not even trying to hold back the sobs that rose in his throat. His mother enveloped him in a hug that eased his pain as much as any of Madam Pomfrey's potions. He distantly heard a door click shut and guessed that Madam Pomfrey had stepped into her office to give them some privacy.

"I missed you," he hiccoughed into his mother's shoulder, sniffling pitifully.

"Shh." She rubbed little circles on his back, the way she always did, and Remus relaxed against her, listening to her heartbeat and breathing. "I missed you, too."

Remus swallowed thickly, aching to tell her how much he hated spending the full moon away from her, hated feeling sick and sore and tired and not having her there to make him feel better. He wanted to ask her to come and see him every month so that maybe the transformations would be a little less miserable.

But he held his tongue, for he knew that he would only make her feel guilty. He knew she couldn't be seen visiting the Hospital Wing every month, especially when _he_ was supposed to be visiting _her_ in St. Mungo's. It could only arouse suspicion and risk exposing his secret to the entire school, so he said nothing, only breathed in the scent of grass and pine needles and fresh-baked bread that hung on her robes and resolved to make the most of his extra week of holidays.

-.-.-

"Madam Pomfrey's great," Remus said through a yawn two hours later. He and his mother had flooed home, where Remus had happily devoured a dinner of chicken soup and his mother's bread. He now lay in bed, telling his mother everything that had happened to him at Hogwarts.

"Is she?" his mother asked softly. "That's good." She resumed humming a lullaby that she had sung to Remus when he was very little.

Remus nodded. "She's not as good as you, but she's really kind to me, and she helps me out before and after the transformation – I go to this house," he added, realizing that she probably didn't know about the eerie structure outside of Hogsmeade, which Dumbledore had prepared for him. "It's really big, and there's no way I can get in or out, and I don't have to—" He stopped before he could finish the thought. _I don't have to be chained up like I do here_. His mother didn't need to hear that. "—er, don't have to go to classes when I'm feeling ill."

"That's wonderful, darling. And have you made any friends?"

Biting his lip, Remus hesitated. He got on with his Housemates well enough, he supposed, but could he really call them his friends? His kind didn't have friends. Not really. "A few," he lied. "Lily Evans is in my year – she's a Gryffindor, too. She's really bright, and really nice. We study together all the time, and she lets me sit next to her in all our classes. She even took notes for me when I had to miss Potions last month."

He didn't have to force the smile that tugged at his lips as he spoke. Lily really was a nice girl, and if not for the fact that he was a monster, Remus thought they might have been good friends. Although he felt guilty about lying to her, he knew he preferred having her friendship (ill-gotten though it may have been) to losing it because of the truth.

"She sounds like a sweet girl," said his mother, joy shining in her eyes. "I'm so proud of you, Remus. I really am."

"Thanks, mum."

She leaned down to kiss his cheek and squeezed his hand. "Now get some sleep. We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight, mum. I love you."

"I love you, too, Remus. Goodnight."


	4. April 1972: Invisible

**IMPORTANT NOTE: This chapter will not make sense if you have not read _James Potter and the Immortal Icon_ through chapter 17! If you have been reading this fic alone, now would be the perfect time to go read _Immortal Icon_. You have been warned.**

**Takes place during Chapter 17 of _James Potter and the Immortal Icon_.**

* * *

**April 1972**  
_**Invisible**_

Midnight, and all was still.

Whichever professors were patrolling the corridors that evening were far away from the second floor Defense corridor. Sitting there in the darkness, staring up at the moon that would be full in just two days' time, Remus could almost believe he was alone in the castle.

Remus tried not to make a habit of sneaking out after hours. There were rules against it, after all, and if he got caught, he would get detention for sure. Usually when the looming transformation kept him up at night, he would simply slip down to the common room to read or work on homework.

But tonight, restlessness accompanied his insomnia, and he hadn't been able to sit still in Gryffindor Tower.

The Easter Holidays began in the morning, and Remus would see his mother for the first time since Christmas. He would also spend this full moon at home. A part of him quailed at the thought of being chained up again, for he had gotten used to spending his transformations in the Hogsmeade House and waking up with both his ankles unbroken. But another, larger part of him, knew that his mother's loving care would be worth ten broken bones.

And so his usual insomnia, together with his anticipation of returning home, had driven him to wander the corridors at midnight, until he finally wound up in the Defense classroom, where he watched the creatures with quiet fascination. They were dangerous, sure – the attack back in February had been proof enough of that – but they were beautiful in their own way.

Voices drifted in from the hallway, making Remus tense up. If it was a professor out there, or worse, _Filch_… Remus shuddered. The old caretaker and his cat, Mrs. Norris, seemed to have a personal vendetta against Remus. He didn't know whether Filch didn't like Remus because Dumbledore had told him that Remus was a werewolf, or if it was something else, but the only people Filch hated more than Remus were the school pranksters – James Potter, Sirius Black, and the Prewett twins.

Remus cocked his head, straining to make out the voices. They were muffled, but they didn't sound like adults'. The desk he sat perched on creaked as he shifted to hear better, and the voices cut off abruptly.

"Who's there?" Remus asked at once, standing and striding to the doorway. Other students out of bed? he wondered. The last thing he needed was for the likes of James and Sirius to get him in trouble.

The corridor was empty and silent, and Remus faltered as he looked for the source of the voices.

"H-hello?" he whispered, suddenly nervous. A dark thought had struck him – there had already been three attacks within the last two months. What if this was a fourth? What if the person sneaking around in the middle of the night was the one behind the attacks? "Is – Is someone there?"

Gripping the doorjamb with one hand, Remus scanned the hallway, heart pounding as he waited for someone to attack him. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, and he wondered if he dared make a break for Gryffindor Tower.

A figure appeared quite suddenly from the shadows – so suddenly Remus might have thought he'd apparated, except that apparition was impossible on Hogwarts grounds. Remus' hand clutched convulsively at the neck of his dressing gown as he recognized the figure. The dark, messy hair; the square-framed spectacles; the cocky grin.

_James Potter._

"Y-you!" he gasped.

"Well, well, Lupin," said James, sneering. "Never thought I'd see you out after hours."

Remus heard the mocking praise in James' words. His face burned. "I couldn't sleep," he said honestly.

Suddenly Sirius Black was there, along with Peter Pettigrew. "Is _that_ all it takes?" Sirius asked scornfully. "So we just have to keep you up all night and you'll get off our case for playing pranks and stuff?"

Remus crossed his arms and retreated into the classroom to hide the uneasiness that must have shown on his face. He desperately hoped Sirius wouldn't _actually_ try keeping Remus up all night. Merlin knew he hardly got enough sleep as it was. "Go away," he pleaded.

"What's the matter, Lupin?" Sirius taunted, following close behind Remus, who shuddered. Why were they wandering about so late at night, he wondered? Not pulling another prank? Or setting up another attack? Remus' blood ran cold. Was he to be their next victim?

"What do _you_ think?" Remus said, as bravely as he could manage.

"What are you doing here?" James asked.

"I told you. I couldn't sleep."

James made a small, derisive sound. "I meant _here_. Why the Defense classroom?"

Remus didn't answer. It was all he could do not to run away. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? What were they planning?

"Are you alright, Remus?" Peter asked suddenly.

_Of course I'm not alright!_ he wanted to shout, but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of showing his fear. "Fine."

The silence swelled as the three boys watched Remus, making him increasingly uncomfortable. If they were going to hex him, he wished they would just get it over with. Why did they have to drag it on like this?

After a moment, Remus began to pace, mind in a tizzy. James, Sirius, and Peter stood squarely between Remus and the door. There were no other exits from the room, aside from the stairs that led to Professor Juniper's office, but Remus would only be trapped in a smaller space if he went in there. He could try to barricade himself in the office and hope the others gave up, but what if they didn't? Or he could try to slip past them, but that might just make them angry.

Remus paused by the Cornish pixie cage, tapping the mesh absently and wondering if they would turn the creatures loose again. In the past few weeks, Remus had read up on the creatures Juniper kept in these cages. He might be able to fight them long enough to run away, or raise enough of a ruckus that a professor would come to his aide.

Eventually, Remus gave up trying to think his way out of this dilemma and huddled against the window, staring up at the moon. Why did everything always seem to happen around the full moon? Why couldn't life wait a week or two, until Remus felt a little more up to handling the stress?

James sidled up beside Remus, who tensed, waiting for the attack to begin.

"How's your mum?"

Remus jerked upright, staring at James with wide eyes. Professor McGonagall had said that they didn't need to circulate a cover story this month, as he would be gone for the holidays anyway. So why was James bringing it up? Could he know? Had he realized Remus' mother's illness was a lie? Did he know the truth?

"W-what do you mean?"

Sirius frowned for a moment before clapping a hand to his forehead. "Oh! Of course! I can't believe I didn't think of it before."

"What?" Peter asked from behind his two friends.

Remus' gaze darted from one to the next, searching for any sign that they knew the truth. Was that why they were here? To confront him about being a dark creature? To indulge their hatred and disgust where the professors couldn't see?

James made a sudden gesture – the temperature in the classroom plummeted – with an ear-piercing shriek, the window shattered, peppering Remus with thousands of tiny, flying daggers that dug into his arms as he flung them up over his face. He bit back a shout of pain and staggered back as wind whistled through the broken window.

They knew. They'd found out he was a monster, and they'd decided to make him pay, as so many others had since Remus had been turned.

And Remus knew that there was more to come.

He cowered against the wall, staring fearfully from James to Sirius to Peter, tears blurring his vision as memories surfaced. Remus, a child of just five or six, confessing his secret to his best friend, desperate for somebody to know, to understand – the other boy screaming, pushing him out of the tree house where they'd swapped chocolate frog cards and pretended to duel and shared so many other secrets. The boy's mother, bewitching everything in sight to chase Remus down the street.

A neighbor, the next day when the news had spread and the Lupins had already begun to pack— A neighbor who had welcomed them to the neighborhood a few months prior with a smile and an invitation to dinner, now red-faced and livid, hexing Remus so severely that by the time he awoke, he and his mother had moved into the cabin in the woods where he'd been bitten. It was the only place she knew that was far enough from other wizards that Remus would no longer face such persecution.

Remus should have known he couldn't hide forever, not if he wanted to learn magic like a normal human. Sooner or later, someone was bound to learn his secret and attack him for it.

Now that time had come.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Remus felt a range of emotions run through him. Relief – the professors would protect him. McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick; they all had sworn to keep Remus' secret safe and to help him during his time at Hogwarts. Guilt – he had betrayed their trust by sneaking out after hours, when they'd only ever shown him kindness and respect. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing such good witches and wizards.

And then terror as James and Sirius exchanged dark looks. Were they going to finish the job after all, say it had been someone else, that they'd only been trying to help? Would they make sure Remus couldn't rat them out?

Sirius pulled something large and flowing from within his robes, something that Remus found difficult to focus on in the dimness of the classroom. James, Sirius, and Peter huddled together, and the thing went over them – they vanished.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The professors had yet to catch the ones responsible for the attacks, couldn't even find anyone who had been seen in the area. With an invisibility cloak, though, there wouldn't _be_ anyone to see.

"That's a—"

James' hand snaked out from under the invisibility cloak and clamped down on Remus' wounded arm, eliciting a yelp of pain and surprise.

"Someone's in there!" came a voice from the corridor.

"Sorry," James snapped. "Just get under here."

"What are you doing?" Remus demanded, on the verge of panic, even as Sirius asked the same thing. James shushed them both.

"Get back – into the corner!"

Not giving Remus a chance to protest, James shoved him back toward the corner behind the cages, clapping a hand over Remus' mouth. The werewolf struggled to break free, struggled to get out and seek the protection of the professors, but the other three shoved him roughly against the wall and held him in place, faces hard and expressionless. Fear twisted Remus' stomach into knots. James had an invisibility cloak; he just had to wait for the professors to give up and leave, and then Remus would be at their mercy once more.

Tears burned at the back of Remus' eyes as Professors McGonagall, Juniper, and Flitwick entered the room. _I'm here!_ he thought fiercely, willing them to sense his presence, willing them to save him.

Professor Flitwick went to inspect the shattered window. "Blood!"

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Someone _was_ here."

"_Revelio_," muttered Professor Juniper. "_Finite Incantatem._"

Remus' heart soared – they would see him! James and Sirius and Peter would be found out and everything would be set right! His fear gave way to a vindictive anger and he glared at the back of James' head. Whatever punishment the professors leveled for attacking another student, James and his friends deserved every bit of it.

But there was no cry of surprise or recognition, no indrawn breath. Professor McGonagall merely frowned at Professor Juniper and asked, "You think they're still here?"

"Possibly," said Professor Juniper. "And they may be the ones responsible for all this."

_They are_, Remus thought viciously, still glaring at his captors.

Professor Flitwick shook his head. "The one thing we know about the culprit – or culprits, I suppose – is that they are… skilled. They wouldn't have injured themselves. They wouldn't have made that mistake."

"True enough," replied Professor Juniper. "But no one else would have fled."

Remus lashed out in a desperate attempt to break free, but though James flinched at the blow, he held fast.

"Except perhaps students," said Professor McGonagall shrewdly, "who are afraid to be caught out after curfew."

Remus shook off the hand covering his mouth. "She knows," he hissed. "She's going to find out it was you."

"Not if you keep your mouth shut," Sirius shot back. "And you _will_, if you know what's good for you."

James glared at them both. "_Shh!_"

"Well _he_ hasn't got the whole school thinking he's the one doing all this!" Sirius argued.

"I wonder _why_ they think that?" Remus snarled, unable to bite down on his anger.

"Guys…" Peter moaned.

"Shut up," James said.

Remus glared at him. "In fact, I'm beginning to think they're right." All the people who had been hurt, all the pain and suspicion and fear circulating through the school for the past two months – all of it because of James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Expulsion would be too light a punishment.

Sirius' eyes went wide. "What! We didn't—"

"C'mon guys…" Peter whispered.

"_Quiet!_" James snapped.

"Did you hear that?" Professor Juniper's voice put an end to the argument as all three professors turned toward the four boys hidden in the corner.

_Find us,_ Remus urged silently. Only fear of James and Sirius' wrath kept him from shouting aloud, for if he got them caught, he knew their retribution would be swift and decisive.

"C'mon," James whispered, nodding toward the door. "And for Merlin's sake, be _quiet_."

Sirius covered Remus' mouth once more and gripped him around the shoulders, steering him toward the door along with the others. As they inched along the far wall, Remus kept his eyes locked on the professors, who had gone to investigate the corner by the cages. None of them glanced his way.

And then they gained the corridor. Remus felt his dread return as his classmates led him farther and farther from the professors. He expected to be shoved into an empty classroom at any moment and hexed into oblivion, but instead Sirius continued to shove him up stairs and along corridors until Remus worked up the courage to break the boy's hold and flee.

James' hand clamped down on his wrist.

"Get off me!" Remus cried, straining against the grip, which merely tightened further. Swallowing his fear, Remus spun around and glared at James. "What do you _want_?" It was a stupid question; he knew _exactly_ what they wanted.

"You… You don't actually think it was us… Do you?"

James' pleading voice caught Remus by surprise, and he stared at the boy in confusion and distrust. It was a trick, he told himself. He'd seen the way they looked at him, felt the anger and hostility in the way they'd hauled him out of the classroom and away from the professors.

Sirius strode forward, and Remus' eyes flicked to him.

"You're wrong," Sirius said fiercely. "It wasn't us."

"And I'm supposed to just take your word for it?" Remus scoffed.

Eyes flashing, Sirius clenched his fists at his side. "Why the bloody hell would we want to attack people like that?"

_How am I supposed to know?_ Their reason for attacking Remus was obvious, of course – but then, Remus thought bitterly, they weren't denying that they'd attacked _him_. Just the others. "Because you think it's funny."

"Funny?" Sirius roared.

"It's not funny!" James added.

"Oh, but it is," Remus snarled, remembering the sight of Gilderoy Lockhart bobbing dangerously outside the Charms classroom window, James' arrogant smirk as Professor Flitwick dragged Gilderoy inside. "You get a kick out of putting lives in danger, don't you?"

"That's a lie!" James cried. "We've _never_—"

"What about Gilderoy? What about tricking him into going flying before he knew how?" Remus waited for an answer, but none came, and he rolled his eyes. "That's what I thought. You don't care who gets hurt so long as you can have a laugh. And with that cloak, there's no chance of getting caught."

James went pale. "We didn't have anything to do with those attacks! You've _got_ to believe us!"

But Remus didn't listen. James' grip on his wrist had slackened, and Remus took the opportunity to break free and sprint through a nearby doorway, across an unused classroom, and into the corridor beyond. He ran until he could hardly breathe, and then he collapsed against the wall, trembling uncontrollably. He fought to slow his ragged breathing and stem the flood of tears flowing down his face.

It was supposed to be different at Hogwarts. He wasn't supposed to be hated and attacked for what he was. He was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to feel normal.

But he would never be normal, no matter how many people like Albus Dumbledore took pity on him. He was still a monster, and as long as he tried to live in the wizarding world, it would be the same. Fear. Pain. Suspicion. His was a cursed life, and nothing would ever change that.

Remus didn't return to Gryffindor Tower until dawn.

-.-.-

"Everything alright, sweetheart?"

With a start, Remus came back to himself and glanced up at his mother, who stood beside his bed, watching him closely. "Fine," he said, smiling weakly. "Tired." This wasn't a lie, by any means. Last night's full moon had been worse than usual, and Remus had slept all day, only waking up after sundown, when his mother brought in some soup.

But it wasn't fatigue that had made him stare into his bowl for ten minutes without taking a bite. He couldn't stop thinking about James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. About the looks on their faces when he'd accused them of attacking the other students. The fear, the hurt, the helpless rage. Remus knew that look. It was the way he himself felt whenever people called him a monster, an untrustworthy, bloodthirsty beast. When people judged him before they even knew him.

Could it be that Remus was wrong? Could James, Sirius, and Peter be innocent?

"Hey, Mum?" he said tentatively.

His mother sat at once on the bed. "What is it, Remus? Did something happen?"

She knew - but then, she always did. His mother always seemed to know when something was bothering Remus, even before he said a word.

Remus began haltingly, explaining about the attacks, how so many people had been sent to the Hospital Wing, how no one had been able to catch the culprit. As he spoke, the words came faster and faster, until he was tripping over himself in his haste to tell her everything – sneaking out, meeting James and his friends, the attack, Remus' suspicions and his doubt, all the way until the morning, when Remus had stumbled down to the carriages in a bleary stupor. When he had finished, he fell silent, staring once more into the depths of his cold soup.

His mother set the bowl aside and pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back soothingly as he clung to her.

"Do I have to go back?" he asked, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Of course not," she said, carding her fingers though his hair. "Not if you don't want to." She paused. "_Do_ you want to?"

Remus hesitated. Of course he wanted to go back, but not if it meant facing more torment from James, Sirius, and Peter. And by now, they'd probably told half the school what he was. His Hogwarts career might already be over, whatever he wanted.

"I don't know," he murmured. "I'm scared. What if they… What if they hurt me?"

She squeezed him tighter. "Have you told the professors?"

Remus shook his head.

"Professor Dumbledore promised that he wouldn't let anyone do this to you, remember? You shouldn't have to be afraid, baby." She bent to kiss the top of his head. "I won't make you go back. I won't make you face those awful boys again. But if you want to go back, talk to Professor Dumbledore. Tell him what happened. I'm sure he'll know what to do."

With a silent nod, Remus pulled away from his mother's embrace, lay down, and let her tuck him in. But after she had gone, it was a long time before Remus could fall asleep.

He knew she was right, that he should tell Professor Dumbledore, but he was afraid that it would only make things worse. Remus couldn't prove that they'd done anything to him, and the professors had no reason to believe his story. Most people wouldn't. Of what value were a werewolf's words to a proper, _human_ wizard? Remus had never met anyone, aside from his own mother, who trusted him. Why should Remus expect Dumbledore to believe anything he said?

But even if he did, James and Sirius were not afraid of getting detention. They defied the teachers on a daily basis, hardly noticing the punishments they received. If Remus spoke to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore spoke to them, who was to say that they would change their ways?

And what if they really _didn't _know his secret? This question had been gnawing at him since he'd returned home the day before. They'd never accused him of anything. They hadn't mentioned his other form, or the moon, or anything of the kind – just his mother's illness. Might that have been an innocent question – how's your mum? A normal child, whose mother frequently fell ill, might be asked that question a dozen times a day, right?

It was a foolish hope, Remus knew, but a hope all the same. His life would be so much easier if James and his friends didn't know the truth. Remus wouldn't have to worry about being attacked. He wouldn't have to worry about them telling the whole school.

Several days passed with the same debate raging in his head, but in the end, Remus decided to return to Hogwarts. If James, Sirius, and Peter _did _know the truth, if they had revealed his secret to the world, if they took to tormenting him on a regular basis, then he could always come home. He could withdraw from the wizarding world and live the secluded half-life he had always expected for himself. If he were to simply run away now, he would always regret it.

So at the end of the week, when the Easter holidays came to a close, Remus boarded the train back to Hogwarts with more than a little anxiety. He didn't know what he would find when he arrived, but he would keep his head down and mind his own business and pray that James and his friends would do the same.


	5. May 1972: Friends

**A/N: Set during chapters 18 and 19 of _James Potter and the Immortal Icon._**

* * *

**May 1972  
**_**Friends**_

Remus was tired. Even without the full moon.

Exams were a month away, and the attacks from earlier in the term still hung over the school like storm clouds. The victims had healed, but they had not forgotten. Remus saw darkness and fear in every eye, wary tension whenever students from different Houses passed one another in the corridors. They all remembered.

So, too, did Remus.

No one else had been attacked twice. As he lay in bed at night, weary but unable to sleep because of the approaching transformation, this thought ran endlessly through his mind, making him wonder what it might mean. He had thought, not long ago, that James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew had discovered his secret and attacked him for it. He'd convinced himself they were behind the attacks. That terrible midnight in the Defense classroom had left no doubts.

But nothing had happened since then. A month since that attack; three weeks since Remus had returned from the Easter holidays. And in that time, nothing. No attacks. No sign that the school knew Remus for what he was. Not even a sideways glance from James, Sirius, or Peter.

In this unexpected silence, Remus had begun to wonder. Perhaps those three were innocent after all.

Who, then, had orchestrated all the attacks? And what did they have against Remus, that he'd been hurt twice? Or was it just Remus' own rotten luck, his knack for being in the wrong place at the worst possible time?

He couldn't be sure, and that uncertainty kept him up late into the night, when he should have been resting, preparing for the transformation. Tired as he was, he grew more irritable than usual in the days leading up to the full moon. He held his tongue for the most part, and buried himself in revision for the coming exams. More and more, he found himself alone, declining Lily Evans' offer of company time and again.

He was driving her away, and he knew it.

She spent more time now with Alice Howard and the other first year girls, and though she still sat with Remus in classes, he didn't doubt that would change soon. Sometimes the knowledge made Remus feel lonely, but loneliness was something he knew how to deal with. It was the stress and the fear that would kill him.

Lily was smart – brilliant, even – and very perceptive. It was only a matter of time before she figured out his secret. Already, she seemed to suspect that Remus was holding something back. He knew he had to distance himself before she found out the truth and turned on him. If he was careful about this, he could preserve… well, not friendship, precisely, but at least some semblance of civility between them. They could study together, discuss their classes and their homework. They could smile and exchange pleasantries and occasionally partner up in lessons to practice their spellwork.

It was more than Remus had ever dared to hope for, and though a part of him – the part of him that had grown to think of Lily as a _friend_, and not just an acquaintance – wanted more than mere academic cooperation, that wasn't possible. Not for him. Remus had come to Hogwarts to study magic, not to make friends.

In Potions Friday morning, Lily and her friend Severus took the table beside the one Remus shared with Frank Longbottom. She kept trying to catch his eye, but Remus pretended not to notice.

_Don't think about her,_ he told himself, nudging his cauldron a bit to the left. _You're a werewolf. Werewolves don't have friends._

A wad of parchment landed by his hand, and he looked up before he could think better of it. Lily's green eyes fixed him in a scalding glare. Remus swallowed.

"What?" he whispered.

Severus glanced up swiftly, scowled at Remus, and turned his dark eyes back to his potion.

Lily's lips twitched downward. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," said Remus shortly. He broke eye contact, but Lily's next wad of parchment hit him in the ear.

"You've been acting odd the past few days," she said with a glance toward Professor Slughorn, who was scrawling something on the board. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Is it something I did?" She bit her lip as soon as the words were out, and Remus was surprised to see uncertainty in her eyes.

_Of course not_, he wanted to say. _You've done everything right. Too much. _"Nothing's wrong."

Something flashed in her green eyes, and she leaned across the aisle to hiss, "Don't lie to me, Remus. You haven't been yourself."

"I've been busy."

"Too busy to talk to me?"

"I'm talking to you now," he pointed out, searching for his knife to begin slicing durian roots.

Lily's hand came down on his. "And when was the _last_ time you said more than two words to me?"

_Monday. When you asked about my mum's illness for the tenth time this month._ "I don't know? Yesterday?"

"'How are you?' doesn't count and you know it." Lily squeezed his wrist painfully and pinned him with her fiercest glare. "Tell me the truth, Remus. What's going on with you?"

Fortunately, Remus was spared having to answer when the dungeon door burst open to reveal James Potter. Both Lily and Remus turned to scowl at him, although for once, Remus was glad to have the other boy causing a scene. After Professor Slughorn assigned him a detention for Sunday evening, James took a seat directly behind Remus and Frank's table. Professor Slughorn hovered nearby for the rest of the period to ensure that James didn't cause any more trouble. Lily obediently focused on the assignment and didn't say another word to Remus all lesson.

The instant class was over, Remus sprinted to the library and hid in the darkest corner he could find. Throughout the rest of the weekend, he hid when he could and ran when Lily managed to track him down. He knew Lily would probably hate him for it, but it was for the best. It was safer to be alone.

So he let the distance grow between him and Lily, threw himself into his homework, and woke the day of the full moon with an ache in his heart that he hadn't felt since September.

He'd gotten too used to having a friend.

-.-.-

Sundays were always hectic at Hogwarts, between the students scrambling to finish homework and those goofing off to avoid doing so. After spending all day avoiding Lily, Remus was ready for the peace and quiet of the Hospital Wing. He headed there immediately after dinner, not even bothering to tell anyone that he was going "to St. Mungo's." Professor McGonagall had discussed his cover story with him Friday afternoon, and they'd agreed to have Remus hear of his mother's relapse in the common room that evening.

But Remus didn't feel like putting on airs any more.

"Just one more this term, dear," Madam Pomfrey said kindly as she gave him his usual regimen of potions – a Blood-Replenishing Potion brewed so as to kick in only after he started biting and scratching himself, a powerful Calming Draught, and a Pain Potion for the pre-transformation aches. "And that only if you want to stay."

Remus looked up, surprised. "You mean I could leave early?"

"I'm sure the Headmaster wouldn't mind. Your exams will be finished by then anyhow."

For the next several hours, Remus turned this possibility over in his head. All the lies and charades and dodging well-meaning questions wore on Remus, and it would be a relief not to have to deal with that again until the fall. He resolved to speak to Professor Dumbledore about it after this transformation.

At length, the time came to head for the Hogsmeade house, and Remus followed Madam Pomfrey wordlessly from the room.

When she left him alone in the house, the silence descended upon him with a fury. He was alone, in more ways than one, and he grew ever more aware of that as the minutes ticked by. Alone. Always alone. Such was the life of a half-human monster.

-.-.-

The transformation wasn't bad – or at least, it was not the worst he had ever suffered. The wolf had spent the better portion of the night tearing at one of the sealed doors in an attempt to escape, biting and clawing and throwing itself against the magically-reinforced wood until its left front leg cracked from the force of the assault.

But aside from the broken arm and a scratch along his jaw (surprisingly, the first plainly visible wound he'd given himself at Hogwarts), his condition was nothing remarkable. Blood and bruises. Bites and scratches. Standard fare.

"When can I go?" he asked Madam Pomfrey a few minutes before eight. His first class was due to start in an hour, and he'd been careful to school his expression and bury his pain. Mondays were his busiest day, and the last thing he wanted was to miss all his classes with just a few weeks left in the term.

Madam Pomfrey finished cleaning a particularly nasty bite on his hand before she answered. "We'll see."

"An hour?" he asked hopefully. "I can't miss Potions again. Professor Slughorn said the boil-curing potion we're doing today is really important. It might show up on our exam!"

"We'll_ see_."

And Remus knew that was all he would get for now. Sighing, he fell silent and watched her work for a time. Only when she helped him roll onto his stomach so she could treat a scratch on his back did he speak again.

"How bad is it this month?"

To any other first year, perhaps, she would have spoken empty assurances, or perhaps carefully skirted the question. But Remus always got a straight answer from her. He had since his third full moon at Hogwarts, when he'd told her of his worst months: the first transformation away from St. Mungo's, which he often thought of as his first _real_ transformation, when he'd woken in the morning to his mother shrieking. She'd thought him dead, and even now, Remus could not remember ever having seen so much blood, the crimson fluid coating every inch of his body.

His first transformation at the house in Ravenshall Forest, in the cellar with the chain and the heavy iron door. That had been the month he'd realized what it meant to be a werewolf. The month his last, best friend had looked at him like a creature out of his darkest nightmares. The month he stopped considering himself fully human.

The month, not so long ago, when he'd last seen his father and when he'd understood the depth of John Lupin's utter loathing for the monster his son had become. (Although in many ways, that month's transformation had not been nearly so painful as the words his father had said and the blow that had knocked Remus to the ground. Only one blow; no more, for the next instant, Remus' mother had hexed his father through the front window and to the limit of the anti-apparition ward.)

The memories had welled up, as he sat in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey last November, in the midst of his pain and frustration and loneliness, and he had told Madam Pomfrey without fully intending to. He'd told her of those months, of the injuries he'd sustained – scratches so deep they carved gouges in the bones that still ached when the full moon drew near; bites that took off fingers and toes; broken ribs and shattered ankles and collapsed lungs; waking unable to breathe, drowning in his own blood.

Remus' cheeks still burned to think of saying all that to a near stranger, but it had made Madam Pomfrey realize that he was not a child to be coddled and protected from the truth. Since that day, she had answered his questions honestly, if hesitantly.

"Broken arm," she said now as she spread ointment on the scratch on his back. "But it isn't the worst I've ever seen. I'll be able to fix it quick enough, once I've dealt with the rest of you." She fixed a bandage over the scratch and helped him sit up so she could bandage the rest of his wounds. "I'll see what I can do for that gash on your chin, but I'm afraid, it will be visible for a few days yet. I can charm a bandage to look like skin, but it won't be perfect."

Remus nodded, feeling oddly relieved. He hadn't thought there would be a way to camouflage his wound, even imperfectly. "And the rest of me?" he asked.

"No worse than usual."

"That bad?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed, fixing the end of the bandage in place, conjured a sling for his broken arm, and lowering Remus onto a mound of pillows. "I think—"

_Thunk!_

Madam Pomfrey bolted upright as Remus started and turned toward the figures standing in the door.

"Good heavens!" Madam Pomfrey cried, even as James, Sirius, and Peter stumbled into the Hospital Wing. Remus sank low in his bed, pulling the sheets up to his eyes, praying his dormmates hadn't seen him.

_They can't know…_ The thought had occurred to him before, and had come to nothing, but that didn't stop it being just as terrifying this time around. _They can't._

Scowling, Madam Pomfrey stepped forward to shoo the boys away. "What do you think you're doing, barging in here like this?" she demanded. Remus heard a note of well-concealed panic in her voice. She, too, feared that they would discover the truth – if they hadn't already. "My patient needs rest! Run along now."

But James twisted away from her grasp and continued forward, straight toward Remus.

"Remus!" he cried. "You're alright!"

"I've told you," Madam Pomfrey said harshly, grabbing James by the elbow, "he needs rest. Go on! Leave him be!"

Suddenly Sirius and Peter were there, staring at him with smiles that were entirely too wide for three boys who had never much cared for Remus. How had they even known he'd be here? Even as they feigned relief, Remus sank lower in his bed, flashing Madam Pomfrey a desperate look. James and his friends might be acting friendly now, but what happened if Madam Pomfrey left the room? Without an adult there to control them, what might they be capable of?

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey wasn't the kind to let students barge into her Hospital Wing and get away with it.

"Yes, yes!" she snapped. "You've seen him, now shoo!"

The boys ignored her.

Sirius, who had settled himself on the windowsill, leered at Remus, the light behind him casting odd shadows on his face. "What happened?"

The question dragged up memories Remus would rather not remember – the bursts of agony in every joint and the lines of fire in every muscle as his body began to tear itself apart. The wolf's rise, like plunging into an icy lake; first a blow that stole his breath away as he realized he no longer had control of his body… fighting desperately to reach the surface… a chill that wrapped itself around his limbs, his chest, his throat, squeezing, stealing all sensations but coldness and pain… And then nothing.

He shuddered, pulling the thin hospital blanket tighter around him to ward off the remembered coldness. "Go away," he begged, hearing the weakness in his voice, knowing it was as good as a confession, but longing not to have to face them. Not now. Not here. Not like this. "_Please_. Just… go away."

The silence was familiar, painfully so. No one raged when they first found out they were looking at a monster. That came later, after shock, after fear, after disgust.

"What?" Peter asked weakly. "But…"

The words, the tone, the dull eyes— all the same as another day, long ago, and suddenly Remus was five years old again, innocent and trusting and foolish.

_"I'm a werewolf," he said, sitting cross-legged in the small, messy tree house with his best friend. They were trading secrets, and Remus had finally worked his way up to the one he most wanted to share._

_ "That's not funny," the boy said, huffing. "They're supposed to be _real_ secrets."_

_ "It's true! I _am_ a werewolf! Since October!"_

_ "What?" the boy asked, suddenly unsure. "But…"_

_ Remus shrugged. "Mum says I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but you're my best friend."_

_ Silence._

_ Shock._

_ The boy's mouth hung open for a long moment. His eyes went wide and glistened with growing fear._

_ And Remus, poor, naïve child he was, reached out without a second thought. "It's okay," he said, placing his hand on his best friend's shoulder. "I'm—"_

_ The boy shrieked at the touch, a wordless cry of pure terror. His hand came up, tearing Remus' fingers from his shoulder, shoving him away; Remus toppled, and for one instant, one heart-stopping second, he was aware of the door behind him, the ladder that was the only way into the tree house._

_ And then he fell._

Another hand came up, and Remus flinched away, biting down on his tongue to keep from crying out. The blanket tugged away from his face— Remus quickly pulled it back, praying that no one had been watching too closely. He knew that for a second, the wound on his jaw had been visible. And if they saw him, saw how badly he had been injured during the full moon, they would have all the proof they needed.

_Let them not have seen. Let them not know._

James' hand, still suspended in the air between them, trembled and curled into a fist as the boy drew it back. "Remus," he said in a closed, hard voice.

Remus quailed and dropped his gaze, heart pounding in his ears. _He knows. He saw. He _knows_._

"Really, now," Madam Pomfrey said, sounding almost as frightened as Remus felt. She, too, had seen what was happening. "I'm afraid I must insist!" It was already too late, Remus knew, but he was grateful all the same.

"How bad was it?" James asked.

The question didn't sound a thing like James, and it made even less sense than the three boys' presence in the Hospital Wing. Remus couldn't figure it out. Had they already known of his condition and had come simply to ridicule him, to taunt him when he was at his weakest? Or, having come with mere suspicions, now confirmed, were they still in shock?

James leaned forward, and Remus flinched involuntarily. "Show us, Remus."

He shot a frantic look toward Madam Pomfrey, begging her to get them out of there, to not make him reveal the extent of his injuries. Only the nurse and his own mother had seen him in this state; even Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore had never been allowed in until Madam Pomfrey had finished treating him. Remus refused to show his injuries to the people he most respected, much less these three near-strangers who would surely revile him for what they saw.

Madam Pomfrey tried to drag the three boys away, but they were stubborn, and she was just one witch. It wasn't long before Remus realized that they weren't leaving. One way or another, they would uncover his secrets. He could fight it all he wanted, but they would win in the end. Best to face it directly.

Screwing his eyes shut, Remus held his breath and sat up, letting the blanket fall away, letting them see the bloody bandages. At least the worst of his scars would be hidden underneath the new dressings.

Gasps and a flurry of movement greeted the sight, and Remus tensed, but he dared not open his eyes to see the comprehension and hatred on their faces. A bite on his side protested the movement, eliciting a hiss of pain. Leaning back against the pillows, Remus touched the bandages over the wound and felt blood seeping through.

"Remus…" James said faintly.

Still in shock, then. It wouldn't last much longer. He had to know by now; the evidence was all there for him to see – the cursed wounds, which could not be healed by magic as normal wounds could. The pallor and weakness. The scars, of which far too many were still visible. The full moon whose influence had faded just over an hour earlier.

Breath coming in short gasps, Remus waited for the storm to break. There had been times, many of them, when he'd been certain his secret was out, but this time he could see no way to disguise the truth. He'd been discovered. His days at Hogwarts were at an end.

"What happened?" Peter asked.

Remus didn't answer, for he knew that, any moment now, James or Sirius would speak the fatal words. _Isn't it obvious? _they would say, in their superior way. _He's a monster._

Sirius swore.

"That is _it_!" Madam Pomfrey shrieked. "Out! All of you! If you can't—"

"Sorry," Sirius said hastily. "But we've got to find out who's doing this. We've _got_ to stop them!"

Remus' eyes flew open. For an instant, he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't tear his eyes away from the pained faces looking back at him— Pained, pitying. No hatred or disgust or terror showed in those eyes.

"What?" Remus asked dumbly.

"These attacks," said Sirius. "They've got to stop, or someone's going to get killed!"

The pieces clicked into place, and Remus could have laughed. The attacks! They thought this was just another attack! They didn't realize— hadn't guessed—

His secret was safe.

Never had Remus been more grateful for the attacks, or that he had been attacked twice already. It was the perfect cover, better by far than his mother's contrived illness and half dozen relapses.

"You know it wasn't us," James said earnestly. "We didn't do any of it – you've _got_ to see that now."

And Remus did. He didn't know how they had found him in the Hospital Wing, but his suspicions of their guilt were obliterated by the emotion plain on each face. They couldn't be behind the attacks. They just couldn't. If they were, they, more than anyone else, would know that _this_ hadn't been an attack, and they wouldn't be fool enough to pretend it had.

Not that he could tell them that, in the end. They could never know that his had been anything other than the latest in a string of grisly attacks.

He forced himself to frown, as though considering James' words. "I… I don't _know _anything," he said carefully. "No one does."

With a moan of frustration, Sirius spun around, even as Peter and James crumpled, defeated. The whole school believed their guilt, Remus realized, heart constricting in unexpected sympathy. They had done nothing wrong, and yet they were despised and mistrusted by people who hadn't even bothered to get to know them.

Remus knew all too well what that was like.

He licked his lips and continued, recapturing the others' attention. "But… I don't think whoever's responsible would come visit me like this." It wasn't precisely a lie. The real culprit _wouldn't_ have come, complaining about the injustice of the attacks while knowing what had actually happened. But he would let them think their kindness and concern had convinced him.

Sirius' face lit up. "So you believe us?"

Remus nodded, and Sirius whooped.

"That's quite enough," Madam Pomfrey said firmly, nudging James and Peter toward the door as she grabbed Sirius by the wrist. And finally, the three allowed themselves to be pulled away, all of them grinning madly. "You're going to be late for class at this rate," Madam Pomfrey continued, "and I certainly won't have you pestering my patient when you have more useful things to be doing."

James twisted one last time to look at Remus. "We'll come visit you later, okay?"

Startled, Remus could only nod. No one had ever come visit him in the Hospital Wing before, not when he'd fallen from his broom in September, nor when he'd been bludgeoned by the Red Cap in the first attack three months ago. True, Madam Pomfrey and the professors tried to keep the other students away until he had been treated, but as far as Remus knew, no one had cared enough to try.

No one until James, Sirius, and Peter.

A smile tugged at his lips as the other boys disappeared into the corridor.

When the door shut behind them, Madam Pomfrey heaved a sigh of relief and muttered under her breath about nosy children and disturbed peace. She straightened her robes, swept back a few strands of hair that had escaped her bun, and gave Remus a strained smile.

"I'm sorry, dear. They won't bother you again." Her lips quirked downward. "I'll have to inform the professors of this. I'll only be a moment."

She disappeared into her office, leaving Remus in ringing silence with a smile still lingering on his face.

-.-.-

It wasn't long before Madam Pomfrey had alerted all the professors to the change in alibis. She eventually returned to finish treating him, mending his broken arm and helping him back into his school robes, which hid the worst of his wounds. She had just given him another Pain Potion, and Remus was working up the courage to ask her to let him go to class, when the doors opened.

"Oh, it's you again," Madam Pomfrey said sourly upon catching sight of James, Sirius, and Peter. "Didn't you listen this morning? He needs _rest_, not all this excitement."

"No, it's alright." The smile was back. "I don't mind." And, surprisingly, it was true. Just last night, Remus had been frightened to be in the same room with James and his friends, but now… Now something had changed.

Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows shot up as she turned away from the visitors. "Are you sure?"

Remus' eyes slid to the three figures in the door. He nodded.

"Fifteen minutes," Madam Pomfrey said shortly, and disappeared into her office.

With a broad grin, James led Sirius and Peter into the Hospital Wing, and Remus made room for them on the bed. They sat, scrutinizing him. Unnerved by the sudden attention, Remus dropped his eyes.

"I wasn't sure you'd come back," he admitted. One visit during his stay in the Hospital Wing was a pleasant surprise; two was almost too much to believe.

James beamed. "Of course we came back."

The statement sparked a happy thrill that made Remus' smile grow.

"How're you feeling, Remus?" Peter asked.

"Fine." Remus raised a hand to the cut on his jaw, which still stung a bit from the medicine Madam Pomfrey had put on it. "I think Madam Pomfrey will let me out in time for History of Magic."

Sirius frowned. "You sure you're up for that? It doesn't look like Madam Pomfrey's finished healing you yet."

Remus felt his cheeks flame as he realized what he must look like. After more than seven years, he was used to his wounds taking a week or more to heal, even with the best potions and healing magic, but for normal wizards, few were the wounds that needed more than a simple spell to fix.

"I'll be fine," he said evasively. "I don't want to miss any more classes than I have to." He fought back a sigh at the thought of all the work he would have to do to make up the two classes he'd already missed.

James caught up his school bag and began to rummage through it. "Oh! Speaking of – we took notes for you."

"You— What?" Remus gaped at James, wondering if he'd heard him right. Sure, Lily usually let him borrow her notes when he missed class, but Lily _always_ took thorough notes, so it was no trouble for her. But James and his friends hadn't taken notes since the first week of classes – passed notes, sure, but they hardly even paid attention to the professors anymore. Why would they suddenly change all that just to help _Remus_?

Now Sirius had his own bag in his hands and pulled out a sheet of parchment covered in notes. "In Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said, taking the notes from James' hands. "Here."

He thrust them forward, and Remus took them, too stunned to answer for a moment as his eyes roamed over the sloppy handwriting. Sirius had written down every step in making the boil cure, along with a lengthy description of the potion at each step along the way: color, texture, smoke, and even odor. James' Defense notes were equally exhaustive. Remus had never seen those two put so much effort into anything but pranks.

A lump rose in his throat, and he had to swallow before he could stutter his thanks.

"Don't mention it," said James, grinning, even as the doors opened once more.

Remus looked up to see Lily standing there, Severus a half-step behind and looking mildly irritated. Sparing only a passing thought for the Slytherin, Remus stared at Lily – Lily, whom he'd been pushing away for the last week, whom he'd avoided all weekend. Lily had come to visit him.

Never before had Remus had company after a full moon at Hogwarts, except for Madam Pomfrey, and now suddenly five people had come to see him. Surely this was a dream.

"Sorry," said Lily, tucking her hair behind her ear as she did whenever she was embarrassed. "I didn't mean to interrupt." After a brief pause, she scowled. "Oh, it's you."

"Let's just go, Lily," said Severus, fixing James and Sirius with a look of pure disgust.

Remus wanted to speak up, to ask Lily to stay, to apologize for pushing her away as he had, but he stopped himself. He still had to be careful. The morning had been full of surprises, but none of them changed the fact that he couldn't let anyone figure out his secret. He needed to keep Lily at arm's length, just as he would have to keep himself from getting too close to James, Sirius, and Peter.

"Snivellus is right, Evans," Sirius said. "Sod off."

Crossing her arms, Lily lifted her chin. "We have just as much right to be here as _you_, Black. Remus is _my_ friend."

"He's ours, too!" James argued.

_Friend._ The word echoed in Remus' head, and he risked a glance at James and Lily. _I have friends?_

Impossible. He couldn't let himself have friends, now or ever.

The thought brought a warm glow all the same.

Madam Pomfrey appeared in her office door a moment later. "_What_ is all this racket?" She scanned the room quickly before fixing her glare on James, Sirius, and Peter. "Do I have to ask you to leave again?"

Severus' lips twitched into a smirk, and Remus saw Sirius go for his wand, only to be stopped by a gesture and a whispered word from James.

"We were just leaving," James said aloud, and Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"Good." She gave Lily and Severus a critical look. "Let's hope you two show a bit more courtesy."

Lily glared pointedly at James as she said, "You don't have to worry about us, ma'am. We won't be long."

James rolled his eyes and turned to Remus. "Stay here as long as you have to."

"But…" Remus hesitated. "History of Magic…"

Sirius gave a smirk. "You know how Binns is," he joked. "Who's ever learned a thing from him? It's faster to read the book. And less boring."

"That's funny," said Severus, sneering. "I didn't think you knew how to read, Black."

"Anyway," said James, ignoring Severus, "we'll take notes for you, so don't rush yourself."

"Excuse me!" Lily crossed the room in a few short strides. "When have you _ever_ stayed awake through a whole lecture of Professor Binns'? _I'll_ take notes for him, just like I have _every_ time he's missed class. I'm sure my notes will be much more useful to him than _yours_."

Remus rather disagreed with that statement; James' notes from Defense had looked to be _very_ helpful. But he kept his mouth shut as James smirked at Lily.

"Better watch your head, Evans. If it gets any bigger, you're going to have trouble fitting through the doors."

"Weren't you leaving, Potter?"

With a snort, James shouldered his bag and headed for the door with Sirius and Peter, who smiled at Remus one last time, calling out, "Bye, Remus."

"Bye," Remus muttered, doing his best to smile.

They left, and Lily took a seat by Remus' bed while Severus lingered in the doorway, looking distinctly out of place. A silence stretched as Madam Pomfrey disappeared once more into her office and Lily watched Remus with her uncanny green eyes.

Remus was startled to find himself thinking about James, Sirius, and Peter. James had called Remus a friend. So had Lily, but it was undeniably, indefinably different when James said it.

_They could be your friends,_ he told himself. Lily was catching on to his secrecy, but not everyone was as bright as her. Maybe by becoming friends with James, Sirius, and Peter, Remus could have friends and keep his lycanthropy hidden, too.

"They aren't stupid, you know," Remus said, and he wasn't sure whether he was saying it to himself, or to Lily and Severus, who both scoffed at his words. Staring at the notes James and Sirius had taken for him, Remus knew that they were brighter than most people gave them credit for, and he knew that they could figure out the truth as surely as anyone else. He had to be careful.

And yet… Could it be worth the risk?

"They're my friends," he said, at which Lily blinked and Severus crinkled his nose. But Remus didn't care. _My friends._ How long had it been since he'd been able to say that – and _mean_ it? He, Remus Lupin, had friends.

-.-.-

Lily didn't stay long.

Remus would have liked to talk to her more, for his newfound recklessness extended to his friendship with her, although he was still acutely aware of the danger of spending _too_ much time with her. But one conversation wouldn't have hurt anything.

She left, though, and not long afterwards, Madam Pomfrey agreed to let Remus return to his dormitory to rest.

"But if I hear that you've snuck off to class…" she warned, pointing a finger at his nose.

If only his friends (his _friends!_) could hear this. Remus was sure they would die. None of them had ever had cause to sneak _into_ class, he was sure, and even had the opportunity presented itself, he doubted very much that any of them would bother.

Grinning from ear to ear, Remus swore that he would go straight to bed and not exert himself until he had recovered from the transformation. He didn't have to go to class with James and Sirius and Peter taking notes for him. Madam Pomfrey scrutinized him for a long minute before, apparently, accepting him at his word.

"Alright," she said, smiling softly. "You're free to go."

"Thank you!" Remus stood stiffly. He winced briefly as his wounds reawakened, but he was too giddy to care for long.

Madam Pomfrey reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "It's good to see you smiling for once." He blushed, and she chuckled. "I think those boys will be good for you, Remus."

"Me too," he admitted. And he turned to begin the long trek back to Gryffindor Tower.

-.-.-

He awoke, some time later, to voices.

"Sirius!" Peter squeaked.

"What?"

James snorted. "I don't think Remus would appreciate you _jumping_ on him."

Groggy as he was, Remus could only frown into his pillow. Why was Sirius going to jump on him?

"I do it to you all the time," Sirius said.

"I know." James did not sound amused. "And trust me, he won't like it."

There was something both unsettling and comforting in the knowledge that Sirius treated him the same way he treated James, his best friend. It made Remus feel normal, for once. (Of course, Remus was also grateful that James and Peter had stopped Sirius from pouncing. He was sore enough as it was.)

"Besides," Peter added. "He's hurt."

_That's right; listen to Peter, please._

"So?" Sirius asked.

Deciding to let his friends know that he was, in fact, awake, before Sirius went ahead and jumped on him, Remus groaned and opened his eyes.

Sirius smiled innocently down at him. "Hey, Rems!"

_Rems?_ he wanted to ask. _Of all the nicknames in the world, you pick Rems?_ But then, Remus had never had a nickname before, so he wouldn't complain. It was enough to know that he _had_ someone to give him a nickname.

"You're back," he observed, still rather groggy from his nap.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Here's your notes."

"You actually stayed awake?" Remus asked dubiously, sitting up and taking the parchment Sirius held out.

James laughed. "We took it in shifts."

It was nothing, really, just a bit of normal first year silliness that shouldn't have been funny, but Remus laughed anyway. He'd had precious little to laugh about in his life, couldn't even remember laughing since he came to Hogwarts, and it felt good to do so now. Never had he been in such high spirits after a full moon.

But then, he'd never had friends before, let alone friends like James, Sirius, and Peter. They rarely took themselves seriously, rarely studied, and rarely lasted a day without getting into trouble. In short, they were everything that Remus was not.

And Remus was okay with that. He'd found friends. Friends he could goof off with, friends who would make him smile when he was feeling out of sorts, friends who wouldn't try to unearth his secret (he hoped).

He had friends.


	6. Interlude

**A/N: Takes place between _James Potter and the Immortal Icon_ (Year One) and _James Potter and the Shrieking_ Shack (Year Two). Although the interludes can be read in any order, this is chronologically third (after _Padfoot's _and _Wormtail's Stories_.)  
**

* * *

**Interlude: Summer 1972**

June's was a good full moon; one of the best Remus could remember.

His mind was troubled, certainly, with the events of the past few weeks, with the words of a dark wizard, spoken directly to Remus, though no one else seemed to realize this. _A successor,_ he had said._ My successor._ The other students believed this to mean there was a monster at Hogwarts.

He knew that he had maintained his secret only through Professor Dumbledore's intervention and a heap of good luck. He knew that another year like the last would see his cover blown.

Yes, his mind was troubled as he prepared for the transformation, but his mind had evidently not shared its disquiet with his heart.

He had friends – for how much longer was anyone's guess, but for the time being he had three wonderful friends. He'd worried, at first, that their offer of friendship was a ruse. They had hated him just a short while ago, had seemingly changed their minds overnight, and Remus found it hard to believe that anyone could become friends so abruptly. But the weeks had passed, and his friends had remained. Eventually, he stopped second-guessing his luck and let himself enjoy his time with James, Sirius, and Peter.

Perhaps it was that they had faced death together and lived. Perhaps it was that they made Remus feel as he had never felt before – _normal_. Perhaps it was the laughter and the smiles that surfaced in his memory as often as any darker thoughts. Whatever the reason, Remus felt lighter in the hours before the transformation than he had any right to feel.

"And what's got you so happy?" his mother asked asked, smiling bemusedly down at him as he lay in bed just on Tuesday morning, the day of the full moon.

Remus smiled, a genuine smile despite the nausea and the aches, and said, "It was just a really good year." A feeble explanation if ever there was one, but Remus didn't have the energy to tell her everything just now.

_After the moon_, he promised silently, staring into his mother's dark blue eyes.

"That's wonderful, sweetheart," she said, kissing his forehead. _After the moon_, her eyes agreed.

Usually '_after the moon'_ meant two or three days later, for it took Remus that long to regain his strength. But, after all, June was a good month, and Remus was used to rushing his recovery time at Hogwarts so he could get back to his classes quickly. As such, he was able to join his mother in the kitchen for a light dinner the day after the transformation, and he told her everything – or nearly so. He skipped over the dangerous battle with del Bene, choosing instead to focus on his exams.

"I think I did okay on them," he concluded as he dipped a cracker in his soup. "Well, I don't know about Potions; I'm not very good in that class, but Peter helped me study, so I reckon I might have passed."

His mother laughed and ruffled his hair. "And to think, just a few months ago, you didn't want to go back."

"I know." Remus felt himself blush. "But I'm glad I did. And I can't wait for September!"

There was something else Remus was looking forward to, as well: owling his friends. He wouldn't see them again for more than two months. (Though, truth be told, that didn't bother Remus as much as it would have bothered another boy his age. Since he had moved back to the cottage in Ravenshall Forest at five years old, Remus had only left the house to see an endless procession of Healers claiming to have found a cure for lycanthropy.)

Loneliness didn't bother Remus, but sometimes… Sometimes, Remus got bored. That was one of many reasons why he was grateful for his friends. Finally, he would have something to do to pass the time besides rereading the same books time and again.

The Lupins didn't own an owl, however, so Remus had to wait for one of his friends to write first. Days crawled by, days that Remus knew his friends were passing at Hogwarts. He couldn't expect a letter so soon. But what if they _didn't_ write? he wondered each night as he lay in bed, listening to the hooting owls in the forest and wishing one of them would come to his window. What if his friends forgot about him, or were waiting for _him_ to write first?

He needn't have worried. The Hogwarts Express returned to London Saturday afternoon. On Sunday, Remus awoke to an owl pecking at his window. With a shout of joy that seemed to startle the bird – a massive eagle owl with luminous orange eyes that Remus recognized as belonging to James – Remus threw the window wide. The owl fluttered in, perched on Remus' desk, and extended its leg, to which a scroll of parchment had been tied.

Remus took the letter almost reverently, for he had never received post before last September, when his mother had sent him a letter at school. She'd written once a month since then – with her long hours at work, she couldn't get to an owl post office more often than that.

Pausing with his letter in hand, Remus eyed the owl curiously. Should he offer it a reward for making the journey, he wondered? Having never properly received an owl (the ones his mother hired just dropped her letters and flew off), Remus wasn't sure what was expected of him. If a visitor had stopped by, he would have offered tea, so perhaps he should extend a similar courtesy to the owl?

"Would you like some water or, er—" Remus realized abruptly that he didn't know what owls liked to eat— "or something?"

The owl hooted and fluttered to Remus' shoulder. The sudden weight made Remus stagger, but he regained his balance and reached up to stroke the owl, surprised at the softness of its feathers. Remus laughed as it gave his hair a quick preen.

_I wish we had an owl._

He felt guilty as soon as the thought occurred to him. Owls weren't cheap, and there was no way his mother could afford one. If he'd thought otherwise, he would have asked for one a long time ago. They were dead useful, after all… Or, they _would_ be, if Remus had anyone to write to.

"I've got people to write to now," he said aloud, and the owl hooted in agreement.

Smiling, Remus picked his way through the silent house, an unopened letter in his hand and an owl on his shoulder. His mother had already left for the nearby Creetown, where she worked at a muggle bakery by day. (At night and on the weekends, she worked a second job at a local jazz club.) She had left a plate of bacon on eggs in the warmer, which she herself had charmed three years ago when the old one broke. The food was still steaming when Remus pulled it out, and the scents that filled the kitchen made Remus' stomach growl. He poured a glass of orange juice for himself and a dish of water for the owl.

"Would you like some bacon?"

The owl accepted Remus' offering happily, and Remus watched the bird with interest as they ate. Then, remembering the letter, he set his fork down and unrolled the parchment.

_Remus—_

_The end of term was boring without you, you know. Just thought I ought to  
tell you. Though after del Bene, I think anything would've been dead dull.  
Sirius and Peter and me are planning on getting together sometime, and we're  
really hoping you'll be there. I don't know when yet, but I wanted to let you  
know so you could ask your parents._

_Speaking of, how is your mum? I hope she's feeling better. Do the Healers  
know what's wrong? I talked to my dad, and he says he knows a few Healers  
who might be able to help, if you want to talk to them. I can send you their  
names, and your mum can go visit them, maybe._

_Anyway, I hope your holidays have been good so far. Let me know if there's  
anything I can do, okay?_

—_James_

Remus' good mood evaporated as he read, and when he finished, he merely stared at the letter, his eggs forgotten. The owl fluttered over to drink Remus' orange juice, but the boy hardly noticed.

The words James had written hit Remus like an accusation; a Howler couldn't possibly have made him feel any worse. The professors had come up with the story of his mother's illness back in November to explain away Remus' monthly absences, and he'd been lying ever since. It hadn't bothered Remus at first, but he had friends now, and the thought of sending a letter full of utter lies to one of the first friends he had ever had made Remus' stomach turn.

With a heavy sigh, Remus pushed his breakfast away, crumpled up James' letter, and sent the owl away without bothering to write a response.

* * *

**A/N: Aww, poor Moony. Just a warning to any of you who don't like angst - Year Two is going to be a tad heavy on it (mostly in this story; it will be lighter in the main series and other companions). As the plot unfolds, you'll see why. But after this year, Remus' outlook gets considerably brighter! So if you don't like angst, you might want to steer clear of the Year Two _Moony's Story_ episodes and stick to my other stories. If you like angst, then congratulations! You're gonna get plenty!**

**Year Two begins NEXT FRIDAY! Woot!  
**


	7. September 1972: Friendship and Headaches

**A/N: Takes place during chapter 7 of _James Potter and the__ Shrieking Shack_.  
**

* * *

**September 1972  
_Friendship and Headaches_**

Having friends, Remus decided, was not as easy as people seemed to think. It was exhausting business that always left him feeling off-center. Every time he thought he was getting the hang of things, James or Sirius or Peter would do something unexpected and leave Remus feeling as anxious and lonely as his first day at Hogwarts.

It wasn't their fault, of course. They had thrown themselves into the friendship wholeheartedly back in May, welcoming Remus into their group overnight, and they'd never looked back. They'd shown him their secret passages and owled him countless times over the summer and invited him to join their pranks. By all accounts, Remus was one of them.

The problem, he knew, was his own.

It had been so long since Remus had had friends— or playmates, or even acquaintances near his own age— that he had begun to wonder whether he was even capable of that sort of relationship. Last May, when James and Sirius and Peter had visited him in the hospital, had taken notes for him, had made him smile as he never had after a transformation, Remus had been so caught up in the unfamiliar rush of happiness that he'd accepted his new friends without question.

Ever since, he'd been backpedalling, scrambling to return to something familiar and simple and _safe_. It wasn't that he didn't want to be friends with the others; he wanted their friendship more than anything in the world. But it couldn't be so easy. That simply wasn't how friendship worked… was it?

It took time to make friends. Remus had spent hundreds of hours with Lily over a number of months before he truly considered her a friend. They had started off talking about safe subjects, like homework and their professors, something that any two first years might talk about in the corridors. After they grew accustomed to one another's company, they had progressed to more familiar conversation: their families, their interests, their pet peeves. Remus knew Lily's favorite color (purple), her favorite book (_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_), her favorite animal (deer). He knew that she loved school but didn't want to be a professor; that she wanted to discover something new. He knew she wanted to get married and have two children, a boy and a girl, and to own an owl and a dog, even though everyone said cats were far more magical in nature than dogs. He knew the Sorting Hat had almost put her in Ravenclaw, just as it had considered putting Remus there.

Remus knew none of these things about his new friends, and that scared him. How could they be friends if they knew so little about one another? Or perhaps the others _did_ know each other, and it was only Remus who remained ignorant.

This thought had occurred to him late one night in July and had plagued him for a number of weeks. He had dreaded the thought of accepting Peter's invitation to stay over and – though he hated to admit it – had been immensely relieved when he realized that he wouldn't be able to go. The August full moon had fallen just a week before the start of term, after all, and he couldn't very well disappear on his friends for two days without an explanation.

He could have made it work. If he had told his mother, she would have helped him come up with an excuse, and in fact she _had_, once James' father had come to see if he was alright. But Remus couldn't help feeling like an outsider among his friends. Perhaps it was guilt about withholding such a significant secret from the other boys, or fear of this friendship going the same way as all his others.

Whatever the reason, Remus had hesitated to seek out his friends on the train, not wanting to impose when they likely hadn't even noticed his absence.

Then James and Sirius had come to find _him_.

Remus had done a lot of thinking in the first several weeks of term. He still didn't know what real friendship was, but it seemed he had stumbled upon it anyway, and for that he was grateful.

But friendship brought its own problems, and as the first full moon of the year approached, Remus found himself wishing he didn't have to lie. It was silly, really; his whole life was one big lie, and he'd never let it bother him before. But this time around, he had friends. He would have to lie to their faces, and then face them again the next day, masking not only his pain, but his guilt as well.

Fortunately for Remus, this full moon fell on the night of 22 September, 1972, the same night as the so-called Slug Club meeting, to which James and Sirius had been invited.

-.-.-

"I'm going to be a little late tonight," Remus said as Madam Pomfrey measured out a dose of pain potion for him. It was Friday afternoon, and Remus had told his friends he was going to the library to work on Professor McGonagall's latest essay. In reality, he'd finished the essay two days ago, but his pre-transformation aches had been building for the last three hours, and he knew he wouldn't last till sundown without Madam Pomfrey's potion.

Madam Pomfrey frowned at him. "Drink it all, dear, there we go… How late?"

"Half eight?" Remus guessed. "Nine at the latest. That will still leave almost two hours for me to get to Hogsmeade before…"

With a kind smile, Madam Pomfrey nodded. "That's perfectly alright, Remus," she said, "but there's no need to push yourself so. You need _rest_, and Merlin knows you won't get that scampering about with those excitable friends of yours."

Remus smiled guiltily. She was right, of course. James and Sirius didn't know how to sit still for more than five minutes. "James and Sirius will be with Professor Slughorn all night," he assured her. "I'll wait until they've left, then tell Peter I've got a headache and go to bed early. If anyone notices I'm not in my bed, we can say I came down here." After what happened in June, when Madam Pomfrey had tried to keep all the first year Gryffindor boys overnight, Remus didn't doubt that his friends would believe a minor headache had turned into an overnight stay in the Hospital Wing. "And anyway," Remus hastened to add as Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth to protest, "tomorrow's Saturday, and they all sleep till noon on weekends. They won't notice a thing."

"Why don't we tell them your mother's fallen ill again?" Madam Pomfrey asked, pressing her hand to Remus' forehead for the third time in the last quarter hour – searching, no doubt, for an excuse to relegate him to bed rest immediately. "That's been working well so far, and it gives you more time to recover afterwards."

Sighing, Remus shook his head. "I… er… I think I've used that one too much lately. If she's always sick, my friends are going to think she's dying." That, and every time James shot him a look of pity, or Peter asked how his mother was feeling, or Sirius clapped him bracingly on the shoulder, Remus felt a little smaller and a little guiltier. Lying to them was low enough, but tricking his friends into feeling sorry for him? Remus shook his head. "I'll take it easy the next couple of days, just— not here. We can go back to that excuse in a month or two, but there's no reason to get everyone worked up this time." He gave her a pleading look. "I swear I'll rest plenty this weekend. I'll even come by tomorrow so you can check up on me!"

Madam Pomfrey frowned at him for another long moment before her hard gaze softened, and she smoothed back his hair. "Alright, then. If you're sure. But I expect to see you tomorrow afternoon, and Sunday as well. And if you don't get enough rest, Mr. Lupin, I _will_ keep you locked up for a full week next time."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Remus said. "Of course." He smiled at her, and she smiled back before waving him out the door.

-.-.-

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Peter asked several hours later. He and Remus had been practicing their Charms work in an empty classroom since dinner and were about to move to the library to work on the essay Flitwick had set.

"I'm sure." Remus smiled as he started toward the stairs. "Go find us a table. I'll just grab my essay from the dormitory and meet you there. It'll take ten minutes."

Shrugging, Peter turned and set off for the library. Remus breathed a minute sigh of relief and started up the stairs, his aching knees protesting every step. The pain potion had worn off half an hour ago, but Remus only had to last a bit longer before he could make his escape to the Hospital Wing. James and Sirius would be leaving for Professor Slughorn's gathering soon, if they hadn't already.

By the time Remus reached the seventh floor, limping and out of breath, he was almost regretting his decision not to use the sick-mother excuse. It would have been much less tiring.

He had to catch his breath before he tackled the dormitory stairs, and by the time he reached the second year boys' room, it was a quarter to eight. It was therefore a bit of a surprise to see James and Sirius lying on their beds and making no move to leave for their party.

"What are you still doing here?" Remus asked, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt. He needed to set up his bed to look like he'd turned in early, but he couldn't do that with his friends hanging around.

James glanced guilty at Sirius. "Er…"

"Ah." Remus stifled a groan. "Hiding." The two boys had been trying for weeks to figure out a way to skive off tonight, and evidently they hadn't yet given up. _Wonderful._

"We're not hiding!" Sirius protested. Remus raised his eyebrow, which made Sirius hastily avert his eyes. "We're just trying to figure out a reason not to go to Slughorn's stupid party."

_Same thing, _Remus thought, shaking his head. "Just give it a chance," he said aloud, praying his friends would listen to him. For once. Crossing to his trunk, Remus grabbed the weekend's homework, just in case he needed something to do in the Hospital Wing. "You never know – you might enjoy yourselves." _Sure, and I'm going to be Minister for Magic when I grow up._

After a moment, James groaned and dragged himself off his bed.

"You're actually going?" Sirius asked, sitting up.

James shrugged. "You know Slughorn'll never let us alone if we don't."

Reluctanly, Sirius gave in and followed James from the room, leaving Remus by himself. He quickly messed up his blankets to make it look like he'd slept in his bed, then closed the curtains to ward off prying eyes.

Within a few moment, he was ready and trudged stiffly down to the common room, where he found James and Sirius glaring at the back of the Fat Lady's portrait.

Laughing, Remus came up beside his friends. "Do I have to walk you two down to the dungeons?"

"That's alright," Sirius said in a would-be casual voice. "We wouldn't want to distract you from… whatever it is you're doing."

_Yeah, and if I leave you here, you'll never go to Slughorn's party, and then my headache story goes out the window._ Remus opened the portrait and gestured the others through. "I'm meeting Peter in the library. I'll walk with you that far, at least."

James and Sirius groaned, but obediently followed Remus out into the stairwell. They looked even more pained by each step than Remus, whose joints were screaming with the looming transformation, and he couldn't help but smile at their dramatics. Anything to keep his mind off what would happen in just a few hours. He walked them to the third floor landing and watched as they continued on down the stairs, then waited several more minutes to ensure they wouldn't turn back.

Finally, at a quarter past eight, he made it to the library, where he found Peter already hard at work on his essay.

"Hey," Remus said tiredly as he collapsed beside Peter.

Peter glanced up from his essay. "Hi. What took so long?"

"Oh, you know." Remus shrugged and dug out his homework. "James and Sirius were just being themselves. Didn't want to go to Professor Slughorn's party."

Peter's quill hung motionless over his parchment. "Oh."

Frowning, Remus studied Peter for a long moment as neither of them spoke. Finally, Remus ventured to ask, "Everything alright?"

"What?" Peter looked up guiltily. "Oh, er, yeah. Fine."

"Peter…" Remus set down his quill. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. No secrets, right?" Remus desperately hoped Peter didn't catch his cringe as the words spilled from his mouth. _No secrets. That's rich, coming from the werewolf._

But Peter seemed heartened by his words, and he looked up timidly. "Right," he said. "Remus, can I… Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

After a moment's hesitation, Peter plunged ahead. "Are you jealous— of James and Sirius? That Slughorn sent _them_ invitations, but not us?"

The question caught Remus by surprise. He'd been so focused on the approaching full moon and the logistics of escaping to the Hospital Wing unnoticed that he'd never even considered getting an invitation himself. If anything, it had been a fortunate coincidence that James, Sirius, and Lily would all be otherwise occupied on the night of the full moon.

"Not really," Remus said slowly.

"Oh." Peter dropped his gaze hastily. "Right."

Grimacing, Remus leaned forward. "Peter, look. I don't know why Professor Slughorn asked them to come and not us. Maybe he knew their parents. Maybe he's a fan of the pranks they're always pulling. Maybe he just likes them. I don't really care. People are going to think what they want to; you can't change how they feel about you." Remus couldn't count the number of times he had told himself the same thing. To his friends, relatives, and neighbors, all of whom had turned on him when they found out what he was, it didn't matter what Remus did; he would always be a monster. "You can't live to make them happy, Peter. James and Sirius like us, whatever Slughorn thinks. Isn't that enough?"

_And if James and Sirius find out what you really are?_ a corner of his mind questioned bitterly. _Will they still like you then?_

Remus shoved this thought away. It didn't matter. They would never learn the truth.

"Right." Peter smiled feebly. "I know. But—" The boy cringed, hesitated a moment with his mouth open, then put on a falsely cheerful expression and said, "Er, about the essay… I'm not sure I know what exactly it is that Flitwick wants us to write about."

Remus watched Peter for several seconds, wondering if he ought to say something more about James and Sirius and the party, but he eventually decided against it. Now wasn't the time for a long, involved conversation about friendship and jealousy. Instead, Remus offered a smile and let Peter turn the conversation to more innocent topics. "We're supposed to summarize the history and evolution of cleaning charms and explain how _Scourgify_ and _Tergeo_ are different."

"Right." Peter set to work once more, pausing every couple of minutes to ask Remus to explain something. Eight thirty came and went with Remus still in the library, behind a growing pile of books, working guiltily on his essay and debating how soon he should leave Peter to go to the Hospital Wing. He knew he couldn't linger much longer, but Peter seemed to be upset over the absence of their other two friends, and he was obviously struggling with the essay, and Remus felt terrible about ducking out early. And so, time and again, Remus convinced himself that he could spare just five more minutes to help Peter with his latest question.

But nine o'clock was fast approaching, and Remus' head had began to pound. His wrist ached from holding his quill, the light from the torches stabbed his tired eyes like needles, and his stomach was twisting uncomfortably inside him.

The first muscle spasm came just a few minutes before nine, his hand jerking the quill across the page as he let out a hiss of pain and surprise. He laced his fingers through his hair as the spasm wracked his body, willing himself to remain still, to not let Peter see the effects of the moon that would be rising soon.

"Remus? Are you alright?"

Remus cringed. "Just a headache," he lied, knowing it was horribly transparent. "I'm not feeling too well, actually," he added as a shiver ran up his spine. "I should probably head up." With shaking hands, Remus crammed his things back into his bag and struggled to his feet. His head pounded more violently with the change in position, and for a moment, Remus feared he would black out. When his vision cleared, he saw Peter peering at him in concern. He tried to smile. "Would you mind putting the books back for me?"

"Sure. Are you gonna make it? You look kinda—"

"I'll be fine." Remus swung his bag over his shoulder. "Sorry."

Peter shook his head. "It's alright."

With another attempt at a smile, Remus turned and staggered out of the library, making it nearly to the stairs before another spasm forced him to pause and steady himself against the wall.

"Stupid," he hissed, begging his knees not to give out just yet. "I'm so _stupid_. Should've left ages ago."

The tremors faded a few minutes later, and Remus doggedly pressed on, tottering down the stairs to the second floor, where he paused to catch his breath before moving on, down again, toward the first floor. From there it would only be a short walk to the Hospital Wing.

He felt the next spasm coming when he was halfway down the stairs and picked up his pace. The last thing he wanted was to fall the last ten steps and break his arm before the transformation. _Just a little farther_, he told himself. _Just a few more steps, come on._ His arm seized up, fingers curling into a tight fist as his muscles shuddered and groaned. _Three more steps_._ Almost there_.

He stepped down and felt his trainer slip, twisting out from under him. He tried to grab at the banister, but his arms refused to cooperate— and then he was falling, head spinning, hair standing on end as icy waves washed over his body. He felt the impact only dully; the pain was so great already that hardly anything else registered. Moaning, he curled in on himself, trying to gather his strength, to clamber to his feet, to make it the rest of the way to the Hospital Wing. It was after nine; he ought to be on his way to the Hogsmeade house by now. Madam Pomfrey would be worried. Madam Pomfrey…

Gentle fingers, cool to the touch, found his forehead and smoothed back his hair.

"Remus."

The voice was soft, as soft as the arms that lifted him into the air, as soft at the blanket that suddenly appeared to cover him. He forced his eyes open, squinting in the glaring orange light, and saw a familiar face staring down at him in concern and reproach.

_Sorry,_ he tried to say, but his head was pounding too much, so he just buried his face in the matron's shoulder and blinked away the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes. _I'm sorry_…

"It's alright, dear," Madam Pomfrey murmured. "I've got you now."

She began to walk, and the motion lulled him into a daze as she carried him through the corridors, down a flight of stairs, and out into the cool, blessedly dark night. She had to put him down once, to freeze the sweeping branches of the Whomping Willow and to maneuver them both into the long, low tunnel, but she quickly lifted him once more and carried him to the old, empty house where he was to spend the night.

Before he knew it, they had arrived. Madam Pomfrey lowered him carefully onto the sofa, then helped him to undress. She took his wand and his school bag and his clothes and tucked them under her arm, then smoothed back his hair one last time and murmured, "I'll be back in the morning, Remus."

He wanted to thank her, and to apologize for being a burden, but his mouth still refused to cooperate. And so, as the nurse straightened and turned to walk away, Remus reached out for her hand and squeezed it once, hoping Madam Pomfrey would understand.

Her kindly, dark eyes filled with tears as she turned back to him. He smiled up at her, and she smiled back. Then, with one last, encouraging squeeze, she dropped his hand and disappeared.


	8. November 1972: A Game of Tag

**A/N: Set during chapter 10 of _James Potter and the Shrieking Shack_.  
**

* * *

**November 1972  
_A Game of Tag_**

"They're completely mental!" Remus seethed, gripping his cup of tea – now gone cold – between shaking hands. He paused and glanced toward the window, realizing with a start just how much time had passed since the haze of fury had swept away all concept of time.

After finding his friends dodging the Whomping Willow's lethal branches shortly before noon, Remus had spent several long hours wandering Hogwarts' grounds, a feral rage building with each step as he replayed the scene in his head time and again. James and Sirius, sporting long red scrapes and faint but darkening bruises, spinning and ducking and creeping ever-nearer the knot that would freeze the tree and open the way to Remus' full moon hideout. Peter standing petrified nearby. And poor Davey Gudgeon, lying in the thick of things with torn robes and a smear of red where his eye should have been.

But now, as the sun sank toward the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid built up his fire, Remus' anger was spent at last, and he fell into a guilty silence. How long had Remus ranted to Hagrid about his idiot friends? Long enough for the fire to nearly die, though it had been a hearty blaze when he'd first arrived and distractedly accepted Hagrid's offer of tea.

Hagrid had spoken only once since Remus launched into his tirade – and then only to offer honey with the tea. The groundskeeper had otherwise remained generously silent.

He smiled now, a hint of laughter in his dark eyes. "Yeh finished?"

Blushing, Remus swirled his tea around his cup. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don' be. We all gotta let it out every now an' again, I say." Hagrid chuckled, and Remus looked up to see the large man wink. "Been ages since I seen you in such a state, though."

"I know. But they were up to something with the Willow!"

"I heard yeh the firs' time," Hagrid assured him, waving his hand. The smile faded from his eyes and he glanced out the front window at the path that let up toward the castle. There, well out of sight in the gathering gloom, stood the Whomping Willow, as active as ever and yet no longer the invincible guard Remus had always thought it.

Hagrid sighed. "I know they were actin' like blazin' idiots in doin' it, but yeh know 's well as anyone those two're always like that. Rushin' inta every fool adventure soon as the chance comes along. They don't mean no harm by it."

"But what if they found a way in?" Remus asked desperately, his mind returning to the fears that his anger had all but driven away. He forced himself to release his death grip on Hagrid's chipped teacup, lest it be reduced to butter-colored shards on the tabletop. "What if they decided to explore it during the full moon? I—" His voice failed him, and he shook his head slowly, silence filling the hut as he forced himself to go on. "I don't want to hurt them."

Hagrid placed one of his great, rough hands on Remus' shoulder. "Yeh won' hurt anyone, Remus. Not ever." He smiled. "Yer too nice."

With a feeble smile, Remus shook his head. "And I'm sure the pet dragon you've been wanting will eat right out of the palm of your hand."

Remus knew from one too many close calls during his frequent tea time visits that Hagrid's judgment on what ought to be considered a dangerous creature was questionable, to say the least. Given his habit of keeping the company of all things fanged and fearsome, Hagrid no doubt thought Remus turned into a fluffy puppy once a month.

Even so, Remus took heart every time he met someone who didn't see him as a monster. Just a year and a half ago, that number had been one – his mother. Then Dumbledore had walked though the Lupins' front door, and soon Remus had found Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall and, to a lesser degree, the other professors. They all treated him with kindness and respect, even (and perhaps most of all) Professor Slughorn, who alone acknowledged the truth: that Remus was not destined for a life of greatness. He may not have invited him to join the "Slug Club," but neither did he demean Remus for turning in the latest in a long line of failed potions.

But Professor McGonagall stood out among the staff of Hogwarts, for she came every month without fail to visit Remus in the Hospital Wing. It was she who aided Remus in excusing his monthly absences and in making up any work his missed.

And yet Remus drew more comfort from Hagrid's naïve dismissal of his condition than from Madam Pomfrey's tireless ministrations or from Professor McGonagall's sound advice and practical aid. He was, of course, forever indebted to those two witches, who both knew the horror of his transformations and still treated him with kindness and perhaps even a hint of affection they didn't show toward the other students.

But with Hagrid, it was something else altogether. Hagrid never looked at Remus with disgust and fear, nor with pity and anxious scrutiny. To Hagrid, Remus was neither a monster nor a victim, but only a boy and a friend. Remus never expected to find someone for whom his condition didn't even register as relevant information, but now that he had, he found himself seeking out Hagrid's company whenever the chance arose.

If he was honest, that was part of the reason he was so terrified of his friends discovering the truth. As long as James and the others didn't know he was a werewolf, they would treat him as Hagrid did – simply Remus, and nothing more.

As a result, Remus found himself worrying about his secret more and more as the days drew on. He didn't think his friends had enough information to put together the truth just yet, but after today… Remus had been so worried about getting Davey to safety that he hadn't stopped to consider that his actions would reveal the secret of the Willow to the very boys who least needed an invitation to find trouble.

Remus buried his face in his arms and groaned.

With a laugh, Hagrid took Remus' tea cup and his own and placed them in the sink. "Don' worry, Remus. This'll blow over 'fore yeh know it. Professor Dumbledore won' let no one find yer secret out."

Remus couldn't help his skepticism about Hagrid's prediction, but about one thing there could be no doubt: Dumbledore would make sure things turned out as well as could be expected. The man who had already done the impossible in making room for Remus at Hogwarts could surely handle a mishap like this. Even if Remus' secret came out and he had to leave Hogwarts, Dumbledore would ensure nothing worse would befall the young werewolf.

"Yeh probably oughtta be getting' back ter the castle soon," said Hagrid as he turned back from the sink. "'S almost suppertime, innit?"

"I suppose it is," Remus said heavily. If he hadn't nearly broken his teeth on Hagrid's cooking once before, Remus might have asked if he could eat there, for in the Great Hall avoiding his friends would become all but impossible. Remus wasn't sure if he was ready to face them yet.

In the end, when no alternative presented itself, Remus made his reluctant way to the castle, where he found the meal already in full swing. James, Sirius, and Peter sat halfway up the table, their faces somber and their plates untouched. Even Sirius, who normally would have reached his third helping by this time, merely pushed his food around his plate. They looked utterly miserable – so much so that Remus suspected their adventure with the Willow had not gone unpunished.

Remus felt a touch of relief and hope that the punishment would keep them well clear of the Willow in the future, and then a bit of vindictive pleasure that soon faded. They looked so remorseful that Remus just couldn't stay mad and, in fact, almost went to join them at once. But fear and uncertainty held him back. After the way he'd reacted to the incident with the Willow, would they even want him around? Worse yet, would they realize why he had reacted so violently or how he had stopped the Willow's whomping?

Remus hesitated so long at the end of the table that Lily caught sight of him and waved him over to where she sat with Alice.

"Hi, Remus!" Lily said cheerfully, evidently unaware of what had happened that morning.

"Hullo." Remus glanced at the empty space beside Lily and then in the direction of James and the others. "Is it alright if I sit here?"

Lily's surprise quickly gave way to a delighted smile. "Of course!" She shifted on the bench to make room for Remus and then, in what almost passed for a pleasant tone, asked, "Where are your friends— Peter and the rest?"

Remus stared uncomfortably at his empty plate, but he was spared having to answer when the Headmaster stood and cleared his throat. It was a small sound, but it carried easily to the farthest corners of the Great Hall. At once, silence devoured every conversation.

"As some of you are already aware," said Dumbledore gravely, his blue eyes dark, "this afternoon an unfortunate accident occurred involving the Whomping Willow and Mr. Davey Gudgeon of Gryffindor."

A few gasps rose – most from the Gryffindors – but these were quickly silenced by those eager to know the story.

But Dumbledore did not elaborate on the morning's events. Instead, he ran his eyes over the gathered students, pausing occasionally as though picking out individual faces. Through the crowd, Remus spotted James, Sirius, and Peter, all of whom had sunk low in their seats, though their eyes remained fixed on the Head Table.

For a brief instant, Remus thought Dumbledore's gaze had landed on him – though whether he suspected Remus' role in Davey's rescue or merely knew the topic would be a sensitive one for the werewolf, Remus couldn't guess. And then Dumbledore had lifted his eyes and addressed the student body once more.

"Madam Pomfrey assures me that Mr. Gudgeon's injuries are not life-threatening," he said, eliciting numerous sighs of relief, as well as scattered gasps from those who had not realized Davey's life had ever been in question. "He will, however, remain in the Hospital Wing for the time being.

"I take this opportunity to remind you all that the Whomping Willow is out of bounds." Dumbledore paused again, and though his eyes did not hone in on any particular student, Remus saw a number of students shift guiltily in their seats. Other participants in the deadly game of tag, Remus supposed. "I sincerely hope there will be no more incidents like this, and that you all heed my warning. The Willow is a rare and dangerous tree, and Davey is fortunate indeed that his injuries were not worse."

After this, Dumbledore silently sat down, leaving an air of shocked silence in the room. Slowly, conversations picked up. The voices remained hushed, as though everyone feared that speaking too loudly would rouse the cheerless Dumbledore to anger.

Remus turned to find Lily glancing, openmouthed, from Remus to his three friends just visible halfway up the table.

"They _didn't_…" Lily murmured.

Remus only pressed his lips together and loaded a mound of potatoes onto his plate, though he didn't feel hungry in the least. "Do you think there's room by you in our lessons?" he asked haltingly, once the conversations around them had grown enough to mask his own voice.

"I'm sure we can find you a seat." Lily grimaced. Remus suspected it was taking rather a lot of will power to contain a burst of outrage against the idiots Potter and Black, whom Lily already held in such low regard. For this, Remus was grateful, for despite his own disapproval of their actions, he felt compelled to defend them. After all, Hagrid was right. They were idiots, and they had thoughtlessly put themselves at risk, but they hadn't done so out of any ill will.

No, Remus wasn't ready to face them just yet, but he knew they would work things out eventually. He had precious little experience repairing damaged friendships, but for now he would cling to the friends he had found, and trust that soon enough they would put this mess behind them. With any luck, it would be the last time their foolhardy schemes brought them so close to Remus' secret.


	9. Winter 1972: Long Lost Truth

**SPOILER ALERT! This chapter should NOT be read until you have reached at least chapter 25 of _James Potter and the Shrieking Shack_. If you read it before then, major events of the main story will be spoiled for you! You have been warned.  
**

**Now then...  
**

**A/N: This is the first of several chapters catching up with Remus' perspective throughout Second Year. It references and retells events first shown in chapters 11 through 15 of _James Potter and the Shrieking Shack_, in case you were wondering. Two more chapters will be coming soon.  
**

* * *

**Winter 1972  
_Long Lost Truth_**

* * *

—  
15 November 1972  
Six Days Before Full Moon  
—

_Eight years._

_That's how long it's been since we last saw each other. I wonder if you  
remember as clearly as I do – you were very young, of course, so perhaps not._

_I would hope I am not so forgettable._

_I must say, I was surprised you still lived in that charming old cabin in the woods.  
I had thought you'd moved away. Imagine my surprise when I saw your mother  
on one of my evening strolls. Such a sweet woman. I remember watching the two  
of you play in the garden so many years ago. You were a happy child, and so curious!  
You loved to explore the forest, didn't you? Always running off after fireflies and  
animal calls, and your poor mother always chasing after you._

_She must miss you, now you're all grown up and off to Hogwarts. Perhaps I'll pay  
her a visit next week._

_I hope you're having a good time at school. May we meet again soon._

—_F._

Remus read and re-read the letter, dread growing with each line of the small, spidery writing. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be what Remus was thinking. He was making something of nothing and working himself into a state over an innocent letter.

And innocent letter from a stranger who knew too much about Remus and his mother. Remus had no friends from his childhood, no family who still acknowledged him. His mother was careful to keep their magic a secret from her coworkers in Creetown, and Remus hadn't told anyone at Hogwarts where he lived. Who, then, was _F._?

_Eight years._

Eight years ago, Remus had been bit. Eight years ago, his father had left. Eight years ago, an important piece of legislation had been pushed through, designed to keep people like Remus out of Hogwarts.

Remus stood, his blood roaring in his ears, the Great Hall spinning around him. His friends were somewhere nearby, but Remus didn't spare them a glance. Eyes riveted to the letter clutched in trembling hands, thoughts flying in a thousand directions all at once, knees weak and wobbly, Remus stared at the letter and the initial scratched there at the ragged edge, as ominous as the scar on Remus' shoulder.

Through the frenzy, one lucid thought rang out: _Dumbledore will help._

He turned and sprinted out of the Great Hall, mind still buzzing with thoughts and fears too numerous to sort out. Two ideas floated to the forefront, and he turned them over and over in his head as he ran.

It could be someone who'd figured out his secret – someone who used to work with his father, perhaps, or one of the Aurors who had been assigned to protect Remus and his mother eight years ago. Remus hadn't seen any of them in eight years, and they would know about the cottage in Ravenshall Forest. Mr. Lupin and his friends would surely be upset if they found out that Remus, with Professor Dumbledore's help, had found a loophole in their precious law. And as the Ministry had no authority at Hogwarts, their only recourse would be to go after his mother.

The other thought was even more chilling, given the content of the letter, but (thankfully) far less likely. It was possible that the letter-writer was the werewolf who bit Remus. In the last eight years, Remus had never asked his mother about the werewolf who had bit him, and she had never volunteered the information. If Remus had ever attacked someone on the full moon, after all, he would have felt horrid enough without his inadvertent victim knowing who he was. Anonymity was the best mercy he could give that man.

He doubted the werewolf would write him now, after years of silence, but if he _had_, then considering that the full moon was less than a week away... Remus shuddered to think what had been meant by the next-to-last line. _I'll pay her a visit next week._

Remus' feet carried him up a staircase and along a corridor that, although rarely traveled by the rest of the school, was familiar to Remus. He had been to see the Headmaster numerous times since arriving at Hogwarts, particularly in his first year as he struggled to adjust to life in the castle, as well as the burdens of keeping his condition a secret. While Remus' first inclination was to seek out Professor McGonagall or the Groundskeeper, Hagrid, when he needed to talk, Dumbledore himself had invited Remus to tea every few weeks in his first year and even still occasionally passed along a reminder through one of the staff that his office was always open.

When the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office door came into view, Remus slowed his pace and struggled to reign in his fear.

"I need to speak to the Headmaster, please," said Remus breathlessly to the gargoyle. "Tell him Remus Lupin asked for him."

The gargoyle merely blinked in response, but Remus knew that, contrary to what James and Sirius believed, Dumbledore was alerted to every visitor at his door. Sure enough, after just a few seconds, the gargoyle sprang aside, allowing Remus to step onto the revolving staircase that carried him up to the heavy wooden door Remus had seen all too often in the last year and a half.

Even as Remus raised a hand to knock on the door, Dumbledore's voice called out, "Come in, Mr. Lupin. The door is open."

Biting his lip, Remus entered to find Dumbledore, sitting as usual behind his desk, a look of concern on his normally placid face. Small surprise, really, with the nervous energy bleeding into Remus' every action. Fawkes the Phoenix sat perched by the window, his head tucked under his wing; countless silver instruments whizzed away as always around the edges of the room, and the occupants of the many portraits snored softly in their frames.

"Have a seat, Mr. Lupin," said the Headmaster pleasantly. "Can I interest you in a licorice wand?"

"No thank you, sir," Remus whispered, staring at the letter in his hand.

Dumbledore folded his hands on his desktop and regarded Remus closely. "Has something happened, Mr. Lupin?"

Without a word, Remus held out the small, tattered bit of parchment for the Headmaster to take. Dumbledore showed no surprise at Remus' offer, but took the parchment gingerly and smoothed it on the desk. He was silent for a moment, his eyes darting to and fro as he read the message, and then he turned his gaze back to Remus, a fierce, grave fire in his pale blue eyes.

"You received this in the morning post, I presume?"

Remus nodded. "I didn't recognize the owl, and I don't know who _F._ is, either." He hesitated, hoping that by some chance Dumbledore might share some information that would put Remus' mind at ease, but Dumbledore remained tight-lipped, as though waiting for Remus to continue. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Remus nodded to the letter. "Sir, it sounds as though whoever sent me that letter _knows_, well… what I am."

"Indeed." Dumbledore frowned. "And you believe this… individual… may expose your secret?"

Remus couldn't draw enough breath to answer. He hadn't considered that possibility. He'd been so concerned over the veiled threat to his mother that he hadn't stopped to think about the implications of someone knowing a werewolf had come to Hogwarts. If the letter-writer went to the _Prophet_ with his knowledge, Remus would be chased out of the school, and all those who had helped him – Dumbledore and the other professors, as well as Dumbledore's friends at the Ministry – would be in a great deal of trouble.

Piercing blue eyes studied his for a long moment and then, almost as though he had read Remus' thoughts, Dumbledore frowned. "Forgive me, Mr. Lupin. I did not mean to alarm you. The individual who wrote this letter would not expose your condition, I think. And if he does intend your mother harm, which I find unlikely, at present, it will be easy enough to ward your home against unwanted visitors."

"You… you sound as though you know who it is," said Remus hesitantly, then quickly added, "sir."

"I wouldn't venture to say I am certain of his identity," said Dumbledore, though something in his tone made Remus question this profession of doubt. "But I do have a suspicion, and I can assure you that with a little effort, he will find it quite impossible to reach your mother any time soon."

Remus frowned. "But… who _is_ it, sir, if you don't mind my asking?"

For a moment, Dumbledore said nothing, but only studied Remus' face with an inscrutable frown. Then, he sighed. "Mr. Lupin, what do you know about the events of eight years ago?"

"I… Not much, sir," Remus admitted, startled by the question. "Only that my father had made some enemies with his – er – legislation, so my mother and I had to leave London for a bit. I ran into the werewolf in the forest up there, and after that, well…" Remus shrugged and dropped his gaze. His voice stuck in his throat, but he forced the words out: "Dad left."

Dumbledore nodded but said nothing, and Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Although Dumbledore's expression remained perfectly neutral, Remus had the impression that his answer had somehow displeased the silver-haired wizard – but why? True, he didn't know many details of the attack, but he had been five years old at the time, so surely Dumbledore didn't expect him to remember everything. He knew the major points; wasn't that enough?

"Mr. Lupin," said Dumbledore softly after several more seconds of silence. "I would like to speak with you further on this subject, but I think for your ease of mind, as well as your mother's safety, it would be best if I go see her first to set up the appropriate precautions. Would you mind waiting here until I return?"

Remus hesitated.

"It won't take long, Mr. Lupin, I assure you. An hour, no more."

"Sir – Professor," Remus stammered. "I, er, I've got classes in…" He checked his watch. "Twenty minutes. I could come back this evening, or at lunch even."

But Dumbledore was already shaking his head. With a mysterious smile, he reached for a quill and some parchment. "I'm afraid I must insist. Herbology, correct? Followed by Potions?" Remus nodded dumbly. "Then I shall inform Professors Sprout and Slughorn that you will be missing those lessons on my orders. And I daresay if you fail to turn up for History of Magic this afternoon, Professor Binns will be none the wiser."

"But Professor—!" Remus protested, but Dumbledore had already finished writing his note on one piece of parchment. With a tap of his wand, an exact copy of the slanted, loopy writing appeared on the second piece and, when Dumbledore performed a complicated wave of his wand, both folded themselves into what looked to be small origami phoenixes and disappeared out the open window.

"It's for the best, Mr. Lupin," said Dumbledore, a hint of melancholy in his voice forestalling any further protests on Remus' part. "I shall return soon. In the mean time—" Dumbledore brandished his wand, and a pile of books appeared on the desk before Remus.

Smiling, Dumbledore stood and strode to the fireplace behind him, pulling down a jar of floo powder.

"Our house isn't connected to the Floo," Remus said timidly, in one last effort to dissuade Dumbledore from his chosen course.

"Nevertheless, it will be fastest to Floo to Hogsmeade and apparate from there. As you may be aware, apparition directly to or from Hogwarts is impossible."

"Right," Remus muttered, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

Dumbledore chuckled and tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. With a cry of, "Hog's Head Inn," and a flash of green flames, the Headmaster vanished, leaving Remus alone in the office with a slumbering phoenix, portraits that occasionally snuck glances at him from half-closed eyes, and a stack of strange books.

Sighing in resignation, Remus pulled the books into his lap and scanned the titles. Dumbledore had provided him with an eclectic mix of academic texts on topics ranging from Defence against the Dark Arts to the specific uses of conjuration; biographies of wizards and muggles alike; a cookbook entitled _Cooking with Charms_; and a romance novel whose cover alone made Remus blush.

In the end, with much sighing and many hopeful glances toward the door – and with more than a little contemplation of simply walking out of the office – Remus cracked the dusty cover of _Defence for the Modern Wizard_, which as it turned out hadn't been 'modern' for nearly two centuries but was informative nonetheless.

After what Remus was sure had to have been more than two hours, Dumbledore finally stepped out of the fireplace, brushed soot from his violet robes, and sat at his desk.

"Now," he said, as though he had not been gone at all, "the night you were attacked. Do you know the name of the werewolf who bit you?"

Remus blinked. "No. I think Mum does, but I've never asked her."

"She does indeed know his name." Dumbledore pressed his fingertips together and gave Remus a hard look. "And until today, she was reluctant to impart to you the full truth of the matter. You seemed content to empathize with this man in your own way, content to think of that night as nothing more than a tragic accident with no real villain."

"Of course it was an accident," said Remus at once. "Whoever it was who bit me wasn't in his right mind. I've transformed, too; I know what it's like. People like – like my father – they might like to blame him, but he couldn't have _meant_ to hurt me."

"Couldn't he have?" Dumbledore asked mildly, though his eyes were sadder than Remus thought he had ever seen them.

Ignoring the emotion in the Headmaster's eyes, Remus scowled. "No," he said. "He couldn't have. The cottage is _miles_ from the local town. I'm sure he'd transformed there dozens of times without ever running into another human. And we didn't exactly advertise our move; there's no way he could have known I'd be there!"

Dumbledore's eyes closed for the briefest of moments, and when they were opened, they glistened with sympathy. "Mr. Lupin," he said kindly. "Remus. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I believe – and your mother agrees with me – that not telling you would be the greater cruelty, especially in light of the letter you received this morning.

"The werewolf who bit you eight years ago did indeed know you would be there. In fact, he was in the forest that night for the express purpose of biting you, should the chance arise. It is true that your father's persecution of werewolf rights won him many enemies – and the man who bit you was one of those enemies. His name," said Dumbledore, gravely, "is Fenrir Greyback."

-.-.-

Remus was shaking. Still. He didn't know how long had passed since he had left Dumbledore's office. Hours, surely, and the shadows were beginning to lengthen in the evening light. He had trudged back to Gryffindor Tower and up to his dormitory without any awareness of where he was going, and had sat numbly on the edge of his bed, where he proceeded to stare blankly at the far wall.

And shake.

Fenrir Greyback. _F._ The letter-writer, almost certainly. A monster.

For eight years, Remus had believed the nameless, faceless werewolf who had turned him felt some degree of guilt, perhaps even grief, for what had happened. He had identified with the man, often thinking of him as he awaited the transformation – wondering how he was faring, finding strength in the notion that he was bound to another being in his suffering. In the first years, he had even imagined that the man came to visit him in his cellar, offering comfort and encouragement to the small, frightened boy chained to a wall. It made the darkness somehow less frightening, the captivity less lonely.

And now he found that the figure he had created in his mind, the friend and confidante, the – dare he say it? – father he had invented to replace the one who had abandoned him… That person, on whom he had silently relied for so long, didn't exist. Not only did he not exist; the reality was a dark and ugly reflection of all Remus had believed in. A monstrous man who delighted in suffering and _deliberately_ used his condition to harm others.

A hand came down on his shoulder. Remus started and sprang up off the bed, spinning around to face the intruder… but it was only his friends.

"Sirius!" he said, heart racing. "James. Peter."

"Is everything alright, Remus?" James asked with a frown.

With a few deep breaths to sooth his nerves – _What? _he demanded of himself. _Did you expect Greyback to attack you at Hogwarts?_ – Remus nodded. "Fine."

"Why weren't you in class?" Peter asked.

"I've missed class?" Remus asked, confused, before he remembered that Dumbledore had kept him through Herbology and Potions.

"Three of them," said James. "And lunch. And dinner."

Remus flinched. "Oh." He hadn't realized he'd been in the dormitory for so long. Long enough to miss two meals, after hardly eating at breakfast. Oddly, though, he didn't feel hungry in the slightest.

His friends gathered around him, pulling him back down onto the bed and giving him questioning looks.

"Who was that letter from?" Sirius asked, once it became apparent that Remus wasn't going to speak up.

Remus shuddered at the thought of Fenrir Greyback. "No one."

"Remus." There was a reprimand in Sirius' voice, and Remus flinched.

But what could he do? In any other situation, he'd have been glad to share his worries with his friends, to find comfort or, at the least commiseration, after the day's revelations. This, though, was something he couldn't share. Not with his friends. Not with anyone at Hogwarts, staff aside. In order to explain Greyback's letter, Remus would have to explain his own lycanthropy, and that was a conversation he would put off forever, if the fates would allow it.

"It doesn't matter," he said at last, softly, staring at his hands so he didn't have to face his friends who, after all, only wanted to help.

"It does to you," said Peter.

Remus cringed. If only Peter knew how right he was.

"And if it matters to you," said James, "it matters to us."

A sudden upsurge of emotion took Remus' breath away, making his eyes water. Shaking his head to hide the tears, Remus lurched to his feet. "I don't want to talk about it," he whispered feebly, ignoring the voice in his head that said he did want to talk about it. He wanted that very much.

But he couldn't, and so he hastened into the toilet, where he turned on the tap and splashed water on his face to hide the tears he could no long hold in.

* * *

—  
21 November 1972  
Day of Full Moon  
—

Six days passed in torturous sluggishness. Thoughts of Fenrir Greyback were never far from Remus' mind, and fears for his mother's safety lingered long after McGonagall had commanded him kindly, but with no room for argument, to stop asking after the wards Dumbledore had erected. (He supposed, in retrospect, twice daily may have been excessive.)

More than anything, Remus wanted to see his mother, both to assure himself that she was alright, and to hear from her lips what had truly happened eight years prior. His restless curiosity became so great that he was tempted to send her an owl asking her for the complete and uncensored truth. He had even drafted the letter he was to send, but thankfully regained his sanity before seeing it off and tossed the parchment into the common room fire. The last thing he needed was for someone to intercept his letter and discover his secret.

Remus filled his weekend by practicing near-obsessively for Defence Against the Dark Arts, as well as rabidly attacking any homework they had been assigned, no matter how far out the due date was. His friends found his behavior odd and more than a little alarming, and they did their best to drag him away from his labor when they could, but Remus himself found the work to be therapeutic. If nothing else, it provided some distraction from the thoughts running endless loops in his head.

The benefit – and inadvertent disaster – of his frenetic weekend was that he made fantastic strides toward mastering the Reductor Curse for Lynx, to the point that he was released a quarter of an hour before everyone else on Tuesday. The benefit in this was that, as the full moon was Tuesday night, Remus sorely needed a chance to sit and rest before his aching body collapsed.

The disaster was that, upon reaching his dormitory, where he gathered his books and a change of clothes to take to the Hospital Wing, and sitting on his trunk, Remus' thoughts returned at once to Greyback, Mary Lupin, and the full moon.

_I'll pay her a visit._

Remus shuddered, praying fervently for the hundredth time that Dumbledore's protections would do their job. Aside from his mother, Remus had no one on whom he could completely rely, and if she were to die, he honestly didn't know how he would collect himself and move on. If she were to survive and contract lycanthropy, it would be even worse.

"Remus?"

Jumping at the sound of Peter's voice, Remus spun around and attempted a smile for his friends. "H-hey."

"What happened?" Sirius asked.

Remus tried not to cringe. What was wrong with him lately? He'd always been able to keep up an act on the day of the full moon, at least until the evening when the aches became more than minor annoyances.

"It's my mum," Remus lied, deciding that if he was this put out already, he likely wouldn't be able to last another five hours. Better to just make his escape now and let Madam Pomfrey's fretting distract him until the time came to march to the Hogsmeade House – or the "Shrieking Shack," as his friends now knew it. _Merlin_, he hoped they forgot about the "haunted house" soon. He shuddered to think what would have happened if they had snuck to Hogsmeade tonight, instead of last Wednesday.

Remus was more than a little surprised when James abruptly sat down beside him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Blimey, Remus," said James. "I'm sorry."

"How come she's always getting sick like this?" Sirius asked.

Against his will, Remus cringed. _Don't let him suspect anything,_ he pleaded to whatever spirits or deities might be listening. _Not now, not with everything I've already got to worry about._

James' hand on his shoulder tightened minutely, and Remus caught a glare passing between his two friends.

"Sorry, mate," Sirius muttered at once. "It's just not fair. I mean, it's been a _year_, and she's still not better?"

Pulse kicking up a notch, Remus glanced quickly from Sirius to Peter and then to James. Did they suspect? He saw no accusation in their eyes, not yet. With any luck, he would be able to head off their skepticism before it had a chance to take root.

"I— We thought she was getting better this summer," he said quickly, hoping no one noticed the way his voice quavered. "But then I…" (They'd heard he was "ill," right?) "got sick, and she, er, didn't have time to rest." Was that believable, he wondered? It hadn't been much more than a month between her supposed relapse at the end of first year and the mysterious illness that had kept Remus from staying over at Peter's. But maybe James and the others would expect her to have recovered in that time. To be safe, Remus hastened to add, "I mean, with all the extra sifts she's been picking up at work—"

"At _work_?" James asked, looking appalled.

_Bugger all._ He'd pushed it too far. Any _real_ person as sick as his mother was supposed to be would have stayed home, of course, even a month after entering St. Mungo's. "Er— yes,_" _he said, knowing it was too late to retract his lies. "We need the money." That was true. "For… Healers… and such…" Also true. Though the Healers were for him, and not his mother.

"But why is _she _working?" Peter asked. "How come your dad can't pick up extra shifts so your mum can rest?"

Remus' stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. _Not this. Please, _Merlin,_ not this._ Even now, eight years after the fact, Remus didn't like to talk about his father. He'd spoken to his mother, once, but that debacle had ended with her in tears and Remus buried in guilt for ever bringing it up. The professors all knew, but only Dumbledore had ever breached the subject with him. Of all the possible conversations that could have come up, only his lycanthropy would have been worse than his father.

By this time, James had noticed Remus' unease, and fixed him with such an intense gaze that Remus knew there would be no wriggling out of this conversation.

"My dad left," Remus whispered after an eternity, shrinking in on himself as much as possible in the mad hope that he might spontaneously apparate to the Hospital Wing before this conversation could go any further. "When I was five. It's just me and Mum."

In a heartbeat, Remus found himself squished and squeezed at the center of a tight knot formed by his friends, who had all piled without warning on top of him. The sudden physical contact took him by surprise, and he felt panic rear within him. He was reminded sharply, painfully, of his former best friend shoving him roughly away, of a single blow from his father's fist, of an endless parade of experimental "cures" that consisted of doctors jostling fresh wounds and prodding him with wands and holding him down as he convulsed in the throes of vile potions.

Only a monumental effort curtailed the terrified shout that sprang to his lips as he leaped up, disentangling himself from his friends. He was shaking, blood singing in his ears, every nerve crying out a warning. His friends were staring at him, he knew, and he couldn't bring himself to look at them, afraid that he would find disgust or anger or clinical disinterest in their face – and at the same time, afraid that, should he find instead caring and concern, he would lose what little composure he retained.

Instead, he grabbed the bag he had prepared for the night and backed toward the door. "I should go," he said shakily. "I just… I figured I should tell you— about my mum."

He ran.

The fear subsided with the steady pounding of his feet, but not the confusion, nor the discomfort. He tried to tell himself that it had only been a hug, that he had been hugged before – and quite often – by his mother. But his mother's embrace was gentle and came only when Remus sought her comfort. What he had just experience was neither gentle nor expected, but awkward and abrupt, and for someone so unused to displays of physical affection, it had shocked Remus to the core.

He was nearly to the Hospital Wing before he could be sure the tears building in his eyes would not fall.

* * *

—  
23 November 1972  
Two Days After Full Moon  
—

To say the transformation had been rough would be insultingly understated. Every transformation was "rough," and Remus had long since learned to cope with that. _This _full moon, however, had been nothing short of horrific.

He didn't know what, exactly, had upset the wolf – whether the revelations about Fenrir Greyback and his true character, which deprived him of the scant sense of camaraderie that had bolstered him these last eight years – or the thoughts of his father that still swam in his mind, threatening tears as he lay on a sagging mattress in a back bedroom of the Hogsmeade House – or his fears for his mother's safety and a desperate wish that she could have come to Hogwarts for the night.

Whatever the case, the hours before the transformation had been a blur of grief and anger and fear that even managed to overshadow the symptoms of the looming full moon.

He had awoken the following afternoon in the Hospital wing to find himself nearly mummified by miles of itchy bandages. Madam Pomfrey hovered over him with her wand in one hand and a steady stream of potions passing through the other, and though Remus drifted in and out of consciousness in the coming hours, he had the impression that the school matron never once left his side.

When at last on Thursday morning, the start of his second day in the hospital wing, he managed to cling to consciousness for more than an hour, Madam Pomfrey handed him a letter from his mother assuring him that she was safe and unharmed, though of course concerned for her son. Evidently she had come to Hogwarts the previous night, briefly, to sit with her son, but had been forced to leave before he awoke.

The wounds he bore from the transformation ran deeper than normal, but they had finally stopped bleeding freely and so, after one final blood-replenishing potion, Madam Pomfrey reluctantly allowed him to return to his dormitory, though she accompanied him as far as the Fat Lady's portrait to ensure he didn't collapse on the way.

The second years' only classes on Thursdays were double Charms, which Remus had already missed most of, and Astronomy at midnight, which was still more than twelve hours away. All he had to worry about was lunch and facing his friends with yet more lies about his mother's health.

But for the time being, Remus only wanted to collapse on his bed and will away the headache growing behind his eyes. He stumbled blearily into the dormitory and flopped down – only to find that someone had left something on his bed. Irritation began to grow at his dormmates' thoughtlessness, but it didn't last long, for there, in a small pile now disturbed by Remus' legs, sat an offering of chocolates and other sweets.

He stared at the sweets for a long while, wondering stupidly whose they were. A quick glance around the room showed no matching piles at the foot of the others' beds.

A piece of parchment lay on the bed beside the sweets, and Remus reached out for it, curiosity driving away the fatigue momentarily. _Remus,_ said the note in James' jerky script, _Hope your mum's feeling better and that you got at least some sleep while you were away. But since we know that won't have happened, we thought you might feel like kiping off when you get back. Don't worry about coming to class. We'll take so many notes it'll be like you were there all along. While you're waiting, enjoy the chocolate and things. See you soon, J, S, & P._

It was a simple gesture, and Remus didn't understand why it had such an effect on him, as though James had cast a Cheering Charm over his note that set off little bursts of warmth and joy inside Remus as he grabbed a chocolate frog from the top of the pile.

He thought, maybe, it had something to do with the sense of understanding and companionship in the note, which reminded him of the imaginary werewolf he'd shared every moon with before he learned the truth of Fenrir Greyback. Dangerous though it was, he felt that his friendship with James, Sirius, and Peter could help to fill some of the gnawing emptiness that had been growing inside him over the last week. They could never know of his condition, of course; they could certainly never be there for him during the transformation; but they could help him forget the terrors of the night and live, for a time, as just a normal boy.

So when, a few minutes later, he heard his friends enter the dormitory, Remus turned and gave them a genuine smile – the first in what felt like eons – and said simply, "Thanks."

* * *

—  
16 December 1972  
Four Days Before Full Moon  
—

He waited patiently for his mother to collect his trunk, shrink it, and tuck it away in her pocket. He gave polite smiles to his acquaintances who wished him a happy Christmas as he made his way across Platform Nine and Three-Quarters toward the barrier to the muggle world. He chatted happily about innocent topics with his mother as they walked hand-in-hand to the apparition point set up a block from King's Cross and apparated to Ravenshall Forest.

Then, when his trunk was set at the foot of his old, creaky bed and he returned with his mother to the kitchen to prepare dinner, he breached the topic he'd been longing to discuss for the past month.

"What do you know about Fenrir Greyback?"

The question visibly shook his mother, who dropped the pot she'd been holding and hastily stooped to retrieve it. "Greyback?" she asked, setting the pot on the stove and spelling it full of water. She turned her attention to a handful of potatoes, which she quickly began to peel. "Why do you want to know about _him_? Didn't Professor Dumbledore already—?"

"He told me a bit," Remus said before his mother could finish her question. "He told me Greyback was the one who attacked me, and that he did it because he was mad at…" Remus bit his lip. "He was mad about the Residence Law."

Mary Lupin's hands stilled, but she kept her eyes on her work and gave no indication of having heard Remus' near-slip. It was an improvement over the last time he had mentioned his father, but it still made guilt burn in the pit of his stomach.

Straightening the mismatched silverware on the table, Remus went on. "But he never told me _why_. Why did Fenrir Greyback come after me eight years ago? Why didn't he go after someone else's kid, or the people at the Ministry? Why didn't he ever try to-to finish me off? And why did he send me that letter last month?" He looked up sharply, and found his mother watching him. "I don't understand it. Why—?" He cut himself off quickly, but his mother knew him too well, and she caught his meaning at once.

"Why did I never tell you?"

Remus turned to stare out the window. He could see the forest beyond the lawn. It was there that he had met Fenrir Greyback for the first time – and hopefully, the last. It had bothered him, at first, living so close to the place where it had happened, but he'd grown accustomed to it. There had been no further full moon incidents, and after all, it wasn't as though he could go outside while he was transformed.

But the forest had regained its sinister aura now, and though the snow on the ground was a pure and undisturbed white, Remus had to wonder if Greyback was out there even now, watching him, waiting for a chance to strike.

"I'm sorry, Remus," his mother said, drawing his attention back to her. "Maybe I should have told you sooner, but I… You changed so much after the attack. You had to grow up so fast, and I – I just didn't want to make it any harder on you." She drew in a tremulous breath, set down the potato and crossed to the table. "I heard the way you talked about the man who bit you – it was like you had an imaginary friend who helped you get through those first few transformations. If not for that, I don't know how you would have coped. You were only five years old! So… I let you go on believing it was all an accident. I didn't think you'd ever hear from Greyback again."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Remus asked in a small voice.

His mother placed her hand over his. "Yes, Remus, I was. I didn't know when, but I always knew you would find out the truth someday, and I wanted it to come from me. I suppose I waited too long for that, though."

Remus shook his head. "But why did he send me that letter? What does he want?"

"I don't know, love," said his mother, opening her arms in invitation. Remus gladly left his seat and fell into his mother's embrace. "I wish I had an answer for you, but I just don't know."

* * *

—  
25 December 1972  
Five Days After Full Moon  
—

The December full moon had gone much more smoothly than November's, despite the return to the cold cellar and the short, heavy chain. His broken ankle kept him off his feet for the better part of three days, but his mother had had ample practice with mending bones, so it hadn't been much of a bother.

By Christmas morning, he was as healthy as he was ever likely to be, and the lingering aches had no power to dampen his high spirits – especially when he saw the three unexpected gifts from his friends. He ought not to have been surprised, really. He had bought them each a small present with his scant pocket money, and he'd offered suggestions to both Peter and Sirius when they admitted they had no ideas for each other.

Still, Christmas had always been a small thing for Remus – one new outfit, one book, and perhaps a toy when his mother could afford it. In return, he would always give her something handmade: slightly scorched dinner one year, a lopsided jewelry box the next, and, once had gone to Hogwarts, a scarf he had enchanted to change colors at random. As such, three additional packages under the tree made an astonishing difference.

From Peter he received a box of cauldron cakes and a new quill to replace the old, worn one Remus had been struggling with for most of the past term, and Sirius gave him a small menagerie of chocolate frogs and a book on little-known charms that proved to be not only fascinating but practical as well.

But it was James' gift that left Remus reeling. He'd seen magical encyclopedias in Diagon Alley when he'd gone with his mother for school supplies, and he'd once, guiltily, checked the price of a low-end pocket edition in hopes of dropping hints to his mother regarding that year's Christmas gift. It had cost more than all the books Remus owned put together— and the edition James had given him was far nicer than that.

After the initial shock of joy, however, Remus felt his heart sink. Compared to the encyclopedia, the one-galleon joke book he'd given James seemed laughable. He managed a smile when his mother exclaimed over the wonderful gift, but as soon as she departed to the kitchen to make lunch, he grabbed his new quill and a piece of parchment and sat down to write a note.

_Dear James,_

_Thank you for the gift, but I'm afraid I can't accept it. I know how  
much encyclopedias cost, James, and I know that I could never get  
you something to equal it. I appreciate the thought, but really, you  
didn't have to get me anything so grand. I'd have been happy with  
a packet of every-flavour beans. I'll bring it with me after the holidays,  
and you can return it to Flourish and Blotts, or wherever you got it._

_Also, please tell Peter and Sirius thank you for me. The new quill  
works wonderfully and I can't wait to get back and start learning  
the charms from Sirius' book._

_Yours,_

_Remus L._

It was several days before his mother was able to get off work to take him to Diagon Alley, a fact for which he apologized profusely in the post-script added three days later, minutes before they apparated to London.

Even worse was that during those three days, Remus had caved to temptation and began to pore over the encyclopedia, which turned out to be even better than he had anticipated. It seemed to contain nearly as much information as the Hogwarts library, but was infinitely easier to navigate. Though embarrassed to admit it, Remus soon found himself hoping James would insist that Remus keep the present, insane price tag and all.

* * *

—  
30 December 1972  
Ten Days After Full Moon  
—

Remus woke to the sound of breaking glass.

Shooting upright in his bed, covers sliding off him and exposing him to the cold morning air, Remus sat still and silent, listening. He thought, at first, that it might have been his mother in the kitchen, dropping her tea cup or a plate, but there was no sound of movement in the house. After several tense minutes, Remus dug his ratty slippers out from under his bed, slipped them on, and crept out into the corridor.

The house was empty, as far as he could tell, and the only light came from the watery sunlight spilling through the windows. Tiptoeing down the stairs, toward the source of the crash, Remus glanced around for any sign of his mother – or of anyone else. Her bedroom door was ajar, her bed empty, and the kitchen was equally deserted.

A frosty breeze made him shiver and wish for a jumper, but he resisted the urge to run back to his bedroom without discovering whatever it was that had roused him. Curious, he followed the breeze into the entryway, where he found a shattered window and a rock lying on the floor, parchment tied around it with a length of twine.

With a sharp his of indrawn breath, Remus peered through the hole in the glass, searching for any sign of a stranger. Seeing no one, Remus darted forward, snatched up the rock and parchment, and retreated to the staircase, where he was safely out of sight of anyone watching from the windows. He untied the twine with difficulty, his fingers trembling from more than just cold, and smoothed the parchment on his lap. A single sentence had been written in thin, scratchy letters.

_Leave with me and it all ends._

In stead of a signature, the note bore only a letter: _F._

Fenrir Greyback.

Heart pounding, Remus turned and sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom, where he snatched up his wand. He was home alone with a mad werewolf outside and no way to contact anyone who might be able to help, but he would at least defend himself if it came to that.

A _crack_ from outside nearly caused him to jump out of his skin, and he threw the curtains wide, not caring if Greyback saw him. His window overlooked the back lawn sloping down to the forest. He thought he could make out a trail of footprints through the snow, but nothing moved.

The front door banged open, and Remus whirled toward his bedroom door, wand stretched out in front of him and ready to hex Greyback the moment he appeared.

"Remus! Remus, are you here?"

Drawing in a great, shuddering breath, Remus raced out into the hallway. "Mum!" he called, tripping over an abandoned towel as he hurried toward the stairs, where his mother appeared a moment later, a look of immense relief on her face.

"Oh, thank God," she whispered, throwing her arms around him. Remus returned the gesture at once, pressing his face into the thin coat that smelled of coffee and caramel from the café where his mother worked evening shifts. Only when he felt parchment brushing against his wrist did he remember he still held Greyback's note.

"Mum," he said, drawing back to look at her drawn, anxious face. "I— What happened?" He'd intended to tell her about the note and the rock, but he could tell at a glance that something bigger was going on.

"There was an attack," she said, smoothing back his hair. "In Creetown. It must have been wizards, because there are Aurors stationed all around the perimeter. They wouldn't let me in, wouldn't let _anyone_ in— or out."

Remus' knees felt weak, and he clutched at his mother's arms to keep from falling over. "What? _When?_"

"Last night, I think," said his mother. "They wouldn't tell me any more than that."

"It was him…" Remus breathed, feeling suddenly dizzy as the words of the letter came back to him. _Leave with me and it all ends. _"It was him."

Frowning, Remus' mother led him back into his bedroom, where she sat him on the bed and looked him in the eyes. "What are you talking about, Remus? What do you mean _it was him_? _Him_ who?"

"Greyback," said Remus, shoving the note into her hands.

She stared at the note in horror, then back at Remus. "Where did you get this?"

"Someone threw it through the window," he said. "It woke me up."

She pulled him into another brief embrace and then snatched up a quill and parchment from Remus' desk. As Remus watched, she scribbled out, _It was him. Please come. Mary Lupin._

Giving Remus a smile, she tucked the note into her pocket and headed for the door. "I'll send a local owl from Hogsmeade," she said quickly. "Won't take five minutes."

"You're _leaving?_" Remus gasped, despite himself.

"I'll be right back," she assured him. "Just stay here and I'll be right back."

"Why can't I come with you?"

"Because," she said firmly, hand trembling as she reached out to grip the doorknob. "If Greyback is still out there in the forest, I don't want you setting foot outside this house. I'll reinforce the wards so he can't get in, but you've _got to stay here_, alright?"

"I— I—" Remus shook his head, finding it hard to breathe. If it wasn't safe for _him_ to leave the house, then why was _she _going out?

Suddenly his mother was there, holding his shoulders tightly, almost painfully. "Promise me, Remus. _Promise me_ you'll stay inside until I get back."

"I-I promise. But—"

She left before he could ask her not to, and, alarmed, he followed her as far as the foot of the stairs, where she stopped, turned, and gave him a smile. "I'll be back, Remus, I swear. Be safe."

And then the front door had closed behind her, leaving Remus alone in the house. After a moment he returned to his bedroom, where he sat with his wand pointed at the locked door and a pillow clutched tightly to his chest.

It felt like years had passed before he heard the _crack_ of apparition and then, a moment later, the sound of the front door opening. When his mother's voice called out his name, he leaped up and fumbled with the lock, managing to fling the door open just as his mother crested the stairs. He flung himself at her before she could say anything, sobbing into her chest and refusing to let go.

They stood there, Remus clutching at her coat, his mother whispering words of comfort that completely passed Remus by, until a knock at the door split the tense silence.

"Dumbledore," Mary Lupin said, sighing. Remus reluctantly pulled away from her so they could descend the stairs, and he followed her to the front door, where she glanced through the peep hole before opening the door to allow the Headmaster in.

Looking grave and alert, Dumbledore glanced quickly at each of the Lupins before saying shortly, "Gather what you can quickly. I do not believe Ravenshall is safe for you anymore."

-.-.-

Within ten minutes, Remus had tossed everything he had unpacked in the past two weeks back into his trunk and dragged it into the corridor, where his mother shrunk it and dropped it into her pocket, along with several bags of her own. Pulling on a frayed jumper and wrapping himself in a gray woolen blanket his mother had summoned from the sofa, Remus joined Professor Dumbledore downstairs.

"Ready? Excellent." Dumbledore held out a small muggle toy – a car with a missing wheel, faded paint, and a key stuck in the top to wind it up. "A portkey," he explained. "One I made many years ago, just in case. The safe-house it leads to was one I never had to use, but have kept up for nostalgia's sake. It seems it will finally be put to use."

Frowning, Remus reached out a hesitant hand to touch the car's remaining front tire, while his mother laid a finger on the windscreen. Smiling, Dumbledore gave the key a twist, and Remus felt an invisible hook yank him forward from the middle, pulling him through a maelstrom of lights and sounds that lasted only a moment before he was spat out onto the carpeted floor of an unfamiliar sitting room.

"Wonderful," said Dumbledore, tucking the car away as Remus scrambled to his feet, head still spinning from the journey. "Now, perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning…"

The next hour was taken up with telling a story Remus wouldn't have believed could be so complex. Dumbledore, however, kept asking more questions, prodding for more details, and he seemed to be fitting together some enormous puzzle only he could see. Remus' mother did most of the talking, to Remus' great relief. He didn't trust himself to speak, especially after he discovered that the attack had happened just before midnight on the street where his mother worked. If she had not left work a half hour early because of a headache, she would have been caught in the center of the slaughter.

Eyes watering, Remus had collapsed on the couch, resting his forehead on his knees as the adults discussed implications of the attack, what Greyback's next move might be, and how they could protect themselves from the madman. Remus tried not to listen, but the words kept trickling into his consciousness, stirring up vivid images of what might have happened last night – and what might still happen, if and when Greyback decided to strike again.

Worst of all was the one thought that kept circling in his head: He, Remus, had the power to stop this at any time, if only he went away with Greyback.

"What does he want with me?"

Remus was not aware he had asked his question aloud until his mother sat down beside him and began to rub his back. "I don't know," she whispered. "But he's not going to get you. Not ever again."

Shaking his head, Remus leaned into his mother's shoulders, eyes screwed shut against the tears. "But it's the only way he'll stop."

"There's always another way, Mr. Lupin," said Dumbledore.

"How many people died last night?" Remus demanded, not caring that he was taking such a sharp tone with his Headmaster. "How many more people is he going to kill? I don't want people to die just so I stay safe!"

"Don't talk like that!" his mother cried, tightening her hold on him. "The Aurors are looking for him, Remus. They won't let him hurt anyone else."

Remus pulled away from his mother, angrily. "The Aurors didn't stop him attacking Creetown, did they? Last night was a warning – why else did he throw that note?" he added as his mother opened her mouth to argue. "It'll only get worse, and it'll all – it'll all—" Remus broke off, unable to say the words he had thought a dozen times already.

_It'll all be my fault._

"You cannot blame yourself for Fenrir's actions, Mr. Lupin." Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes searching Remus' with a focused intent. "Fenrir Greyback has been attacking and killing people since before you could walk, and he will continue to do so whether you go to him or not. You cannot save his other victims, but you _can_ protect yourself."

Before Remus could think of a way to respond to this – to express that perhaps Greyback _would_ go on killing whatever Remus did, but that didn't absolve him of blame if he chose not to do everything he could to protect others – a wispy silver vapour streamed in through the wall and condensed before Dumbledore, taking on the likeness of a tabby cat.

"Headmaster," the cat said in Professor McGonagall's voice. "It has been brought to my attention that Remus Lupin and his mother live near Creetown, which as I am sure you are already aware, was attacked last night." Remus might have been mistaken, but he thought he heard a note of concern in McGonagall's voice. "If you know where the Lupins are and whether they were injured last night, I ask that you let me know. His friends have worked themselves into a state with worry."

Remus looked up sharply at the mention of his friends, and watched with fascination as the silver cat vanished.

"Was that a Patronus?" Remus' mother asked.

"It was," said Dumbledore. "Minerva and I have been working on a modified version that allows for communication. Until today, there has not been much cause to use it, and if Minerva has had to resort to her Patronus, it means the wards around this house have turned away all normal means of locating an individual. I do believe you will be quite safe here until Fenrir can be brought to justice."

Releasing a long breath, Mary Lupin smiled. "Thank you, Headmaster. I'm sorry to put you through all this trouble."

But Dumbledore merely waved his hand. "Think nothing of it, Ms. Lupin. I am glad to see you safe. But perhaps it is time I returned to the school and reassured your son's friends that he was not harmed in last night's attack."

"Sir," said Remus' mother as Dumbledore stood to leave. "Term starts in two days, and with everything that's happened, I'm not sure I feel comfortable sending Remus back on the Hogwarts Express."

Remus looked up in surprise. "You mean I'm not going back?" he asked, throat constricting at the thought. Perhaps it was safer to stay here until Greyback was gone, but Remus had grown so attached to Hogwarts, and to his friends, that the thought of not seeing them again soon was terrifying.

Thankfully, his mother shook her head. "Of course you are," she said. "I know how much your friends mean to you, Remus, and I think we both know Hogwarts is the best place for you right now. I was just wondering if the Headmaster might take you back with him – tonight."

A corner of Remus' mind resisted this suggestion. Hogwarts was so far away, and no one there truly understood what had happened in Creetown. He was tempted to ask to stay with his mother, at least for a few more days, until the shock of that morning wore off. But he knew that if he waited too long to return, his friends would only have more questions for him – questions he wouldn't be able to answer.

Seeing Remus' hesitation, Dumbledore drew his wand and cast a silent spell. A Phoenix Patronus emerged from the tip of his wand and disappeared through the wall. "I believe it would be best for the two of you to discuss your options before we decide on anything. To that end, I shall leave you alone for a shot time while I fetch Professor McGonagall, who seems quite anxious to hear news of young Mr. Lupin. When I return, if you so desire, Minerva can escort Remus back to Hogwarts while you and I discuss the, ah, appropriate security measures to be implemented for his protection."

Remus frowned. A significant look passed between the adults, and Remus had the distinct impression they were trying to keep something from him – but what?

Soon enough, Dumbledore had departed. Remus' mother pulled him into an embrace.

"I know you're scared, Remus," she murmured, "but you ought to go back. It's only a day early, and you know as well as I there's no place like Hogwarts to forget about the rest of the world."

Remus nodded slowly, not protesting though he wanted nothing more than to remain with his mother. But for how long? At Hogwarts, there were myriad distractions to draw his mind away from Greyback. Here in the safe-house, Remus would have nothing but fears and questions to occupy his mind.

"Can't you come, too?" he asked, avoiding his mother's gaze.

She sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea, love. People would start to wonder why I was there – and haven't you been telling them you've gone to visit me in St. Mungo's every month?"

Remus nodded glumly. "I understand."

Kissing the top of his head, she gave him a bracing smile. "This isn't forever. You've just got to stay strong for a bit. By the Easter Holidays, everything will be back to normal, you'll see."

-.-.-

Within the hour, Remus found himself trudging up the stairs to his dormitory behind Professor McGonagall, thoroughly depressed and still clutching the blanket his mother had draped around him that morning – mere hours ago, though it felt like far longer. He didn't want to face his friends, and he was immensely grateful for McGonagall's promise to ensure they didn't pester him overly much.

As soon as McGonagall opened the door, James let loose a string of questions so rushed Remus' tired mind couldn't keep up.

McGonagall, too, seemed taken aback by the sudden interrogation. "_Potter,_" she said firmly. "One question at a time."

James took a noisy breath and asked, "How's Remus?"

McGonagall didn't answer, but stepped aside so that the three boys could see Remus for himself. He fixed his gaze on the floor and steeled himself for an interrogation, but instead found himself subjected to a flurry of hugs and indistinct murmurs of relief. McGonagall, mercifully, put a swift end to the reunion and soon drew the others out of the room to answer their questions where Remus didn't have to hear.

The silence in which he found himself pressed in on him, making him feel suddenly claustrophobic. The events of the day replayed endlessly in his head, long hours of stress and fear that left him feeling more drained than a full moon. The evening was still early, but already Remus was ready for bed, ready to put Fenrir Greyback out of his mind, if only temporarily.

He tried not to think about the note, the implication that Greyback wanted him – _why_, Remus still didn't know – and that until the man was caught, innocent people would continue to be hurt. The one, small comfort Remus clung to was that this was Hogwarts, and Albus Dumbledore was the Headmaster; as long as Remus was here, Greyback could never reach him.

He would just have to wait, and pray the Aurors caught Greyback soon.


	10. January 1973: Echoes

**A/N: The second catch-up chapter is here! Again, should not be read before chapter 25 of _James Potter and the Shrieking Shack_. Set primarily during Chapter 16, with one scene from the end of Chapter 15.**

* * *

**January 1973  
_Echoes_**

* * *

_He remembered little of the summer of 1965._

_Whispered conversations. Guarded looks. Fierce hugs._

_The last kind words he heard from his father—_

"_Be safe."_

* * *

In the second week of term, James and Sirius made a concerted effort to resume a normal life. Remus knew his behavior of late had them unnerved, but he found it difficult to forget Greyback's attack on Creetown – especially when the man began sending Remus letters.

They came frequently, sometimes twice in a day, inviting Remus to leave with him, asking after Remus' mother, reminding Remus that his tormentor had followed him to Hogwarts. At first, Remus had taken each and every letter to McGonagall, thinking it best to keep the professors up on Greyback's activity. However, it soon became apparent that doing so was attracting too much attention, so Remus contented himself with sending summaries to Dumbledore every other day, usually borrowing James' owl to do so.

He was sure to burn each of Greyback's letters after reading them, lest his friends find one and suss out the truth of Remus' condition.

To his great relief, Remus' efforts at discretion were rewarded. Although his friends could hardly fail to notice his silence or nervousness, they remained oblivious to the reason behind his mood. More importantly, they directed their efforts into cheering him up, rather than uncovering the truth.

So it was that, less than two weeks after the attack, when Remus was just beginning to master his paranoia, James declared a midnight exploration long overdue.

"Coming, Remus?" he asked, fishing out his invisibility cloak.

Remus shook his head.

"You sure? We haven't been caught yet!"

"I'd rather not," said Remus and only just stopped from adding that his friends shouldn't go either. None of them had grabbed their winter cloaks, which meant they weren't planning to venture outside… but even still, Remus didn't want to leave the safety of Gryffindor Tower in the middle of the night. Not when that very day he'd received a letter from Greyback asking if the book Peter had dropped on the way to Herbology had been ruined by the snow.

The professors knew Greyback was on the grounds, of course, and they were searching for him, but he had taken refuge in the Forbidden Forest. Thus far, no one had been able to track him any distance into the darkness. Every time they tried, they would find an Acromantula or a nest of Red Caps in their way, and by the time they dealt with the creatures, all trace of Greyback had vanished.

Obviously, Remus couldn't tell his friends this, and so he was powerless to stop them sneaking out a few minutes later to roam the castle. When they'd left, however, Remus shut his book and clutched it to his chest. Staring at the closed door, he rested his chin on his knees and whispered, "Be safe."

* * *

_He remembered the men who came with them._

_Roberts and Jenson. Not Aurors; "Friends of your dad."_

_They didn't explain the danger, and he didn't blame them._

_At five years old, he couldn't have understood Greyback's favorite tactic:_

_Go for the heart._

* * *

Another letter came two days before the full moon, well before dawn. Fortunately, the owl's tapping at the window didn't rouse anyone besides Remus, who hastily snatched the letter from the owl's talons and sent the creature away.

Retreating downstairs to the empty common room, Remus tore the envelope open. Inside, he found only a photograph of himself and his friends down by Hagrid's hut. James and Sirius carried on a snowball fight in the background while Peter laughed and Remus smiled into his gloved hand. On the back of the photograph, in Greyback's spidery writing, were three words:

_Friends of yours?_

The photograph fell from trembling fingers, and Remus stared in horror at the laughing faces in the scene.

They were in danger.

His friends were in danger, and it was all Remus' fault. Greyback never would have spared them a second glance if not for their friendship with Remus, and now… Now Greyback had his eye on them, and if Remus didn't do something, he might attack them as he had attacked Remus eight years before.

Rushing back up to his dormitory for a dressing gown and slippers, Remus tumbled out into the deserted corridors and sprinted the whole way to Professor McGonagall's quarters, where he pounded on the door until a bleary-eyed McGonagall answered.

"Lupin?" she asked through a yawn. "Do you have any idea of the time?"

"Sorry," Remus said hastily. He shoved the photograph at McGonagall, who took it and stared blankly at the picture. "Greyback sent me this. I—" He bit his lip, suddenly realizing how rude it was for him to come to her quarters two hours before breakfast and demand a conversation while they were both in their pajamas and dressing gowns. "Sorry, Professor. I know I should have owled the Headmaster like I've been doing since term started, but I… I just…"

McGonagall sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't apologize. I know the past few weeks have been trying for you, Remus, and you should never feel as though you cannot come to me for help. As your Head of House, I'm always available."

Remus looked up hopefully, and McGonagall smiled.

"I am sure the Headmaster will want to hear of this. I'll speak to him. In the meantime, try not to worry overly much. Greyback cannot do anything as long as your friends remain in the castle or with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses."

Comforting words, Remus was sure, for someone whose friends didn't make a habit of sneaking out of the castle at every opportunity. But McGonagall was already turning away, and Remus understood the dismissal. Feeling no less frightened than when he'd first seen the picture, Remus returned to the common room, wondering if the only way to make it stop was to go away with Greyback. _Leave with me,_ the second note had promised, _and it all ends._

He sat on the floor, staring blindly into the fire, until James came down for breakfast.

* * *

_He remembered the forest had captivated him from the moment they arrived._

_He didn't know why._

_Perhaps the looks his mother and the Aurors kept shooting toward the vast green shadows._

_Perhaps the animal calls he heard from his window at all hours._

_Perhaps the fact that it was off-limits._

_There was just something about it that called to him._

* * *

The rumors had begun shortly after Greyback's arrival, and as time went on, they only intensified. All the whispering about the man in the forest had unsettled Remus, at first; more than once, he'd sat through lunch without touching his food, listening intently for any mention of his name, or Greyback's, or werewolves in general.

Days passed, and no one so much as flirted with the truth. Eventually, Remus forced himself to relax. His secret was safe; no one knew who it was in the Forest, and even if they did, no one else would take them seriously.

So when Sturgis Podmore fainted down by the lake and spent Wednesday evening in the Hospital Wing, kicking up a new flurry of rumors, Remus hardly listened.

"He said there was something in the forest!"

It was a blonde Ravenclaw who spoke, her voice matter-of-fact, as supper finished the day before the full moon. The other students gathered around her listened with fascination, eager to hear the latest episode in the saga of the mysterious intruder.

Remus glanced back when the footsteps behind him faltered, and saw his friends watching the conversation with curiosity. _Brilliant_, he thought, rolling his eyes. _Just what I need. My friends getting curious about Greyback._

He didn't stick around, however. They could listen to gossip all they wanted; they would never hear the truth.

Little did Remus know, they would hear something far more dangerous.

* * *

_He remembered the boredom._

_Three bedrooms. Two toilets. A kitchen. A sitting room. A cellar:_

_His world, for six long weeks._

_His mother. Two men who rarely spoke:_

_His only playmates._

_The forest offered infinitely more diversions._

* * *

He knew they were going out exploring when Eliot Donovan at last left the common room with an admonition to turn in soon. James and Sirius watched him go, and when a distant door clicked shut, the three boys leaped at once to their feet, forgetting the essays they'd been working on all night.

"You're going out again, aren't you?" Remus asked without looking up from his book. The photograph from Greyback still weighed on his mind, despite McGonagall's assurances that no one could get past the professors' defenses.

James glanced at Peter and Sirius, then turned to Remus. "You wanna come?"

Remus shook his head, wondering if James would ever realize that Remus wanted no part in their rule-breaking.

Shrugging, James reached into his bag and pulled out his heavy winter cloak.

Remus felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Wait a minute. You're going to _Hogsmeade?_" His mind was racing, trying to come up with a way to keep them inside, and drawing a terrifying blank. "You aren't still on about that ruddy Shrieking Shack, are you?" He wondered, wildly, what he would do if they said _yes_. Satisfy their curiosity in exchange for a promise to stay inside? Trade his deepest secret for his best friends' lives?

"No, Remus," said Sirius, fastening his cloak around his shoulders. "We aren't going to Hogsmeade. Just out for a stroll."

"_What?_" Remus cried, lurching to his feet. His book fell from his lap, but he could only stare at his friends. "On the _grounds?_"

Out on the grounds. With Fenrir Greyback.

Remus felt ill.

"Don't tell me you believe all that rubbish about the monster in the forest," James said.

_Tell them_, said a voice in his head. _It's the only way they'll listen._

But Sirius was already laughing. "You do!" he cried, pointing accusatorily. "Merlin's beard! You're the smartest bloke in our year, and you _actually_ believe there's a monster at Hogwarts!"

Remus flinched before he could stop it. _A monster at Hogwarts. _He couldn't help but wonder if Sirius would say the same thing when he found out Remus was a werewolf. (_If_, Remus corrected. _If he finds out._) Perhaps he would spread the story around the school, so all the gossips could boast about how they were right all along; there really _was_ a monster in their midst.

"You shouldn't sneak out of the castle," Remus said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "There are loads of dangerous creatures in the forest. Why do you think the professors tell us to stay away from there?"

"Who said anything about going into the forest?"

Remus' breath hitched in his throat. On the grounds was bad enough – was _close enough_ to the forest and to Greyback. His mind had strayed their because he knew of the danger, but Remus hadn't expected his friends to deliberately _enter_ the forest.

"You worry too much," said James dismissively. "We'll be back in an hour or so."

"We've just got to show a few snakes what it means to be a Gryffindor," Sirius added.

Burying his face in his hands, Remus screwed his eyes shut. Perhaps it was all a dream, and he would soon wake up to find his friends safely in their beds. "This is all about a _dare?_ With the _Slytherins_?"

"Can't back out now," said James.

Remus looked up, sharply. "Yes, you _can._"

Sirius glanced at his watch. "We don't have time for this, mate. We're gonna be late."

"Right."

As James turned toward the portrait hole, Remus reached out to grab his arm. "James, don't do this. _Please_ don't go out there."

Peter shuffled his feet, looking uncertain. "It's no big deal, Remus. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

For a moment, Remus could only gape at him. _Tell them. They _need _to know. _"You mean aside from meeting any number of dangerous things—" _Greyback_— "in the forest? How about the fact that you told _Slytherins_ that you were going to the _Forbidden _Forest – _after curfew_? You really think they aren't going to go straight to the professors about this?"

"That's why we take the invisibility cloak," James said, patting his pocket. "Any professors show up, and we just have to duck under here. Problem solved."

Remus' heart seemed to have climbed up into his throat. Detention wasn't going to scare them out of their expedition; Remus needed something else. But his mind could only scream _Greyback_ over and over again. There was nothing else for it. He had to tell them, even if it meant handing them the key to his own secret.

Before Remus could speak, Sirius groaned and pushed the portrait open. "You nancies do whatever you want. I'm going."

"No!" Remus cried, starting after Sirius' disappearing form.

James slipped past Remus and out onto the landing. "We'll be back soon, you'll see."

"But—!"

They were gone before Remus could say another word.

* * *

_He didn't remember sneaking off, but knew he must have done._

_The yard. Afternoon sun. Aurors standing guard. Hide-and-seek with his mother._

_And then the forest. Large, dark, lonely._

_His mother screaming his name._

_Running blindly, disoriented, the trees cutting strange figures in the night._

_The light of the full moon._

* * *

Remus staggered out through the portrait hole, hissing for James and Sirius to come back, but they had already vanished, and Remus was left to stand, trembling, on the landing. The Fat Lady snapped at him to make up his mind – in or out – and he climbed numbly back inside.

It was late, and Peter yawned as he watched Remus pace the room.

"They'll be alright," said Peter, rolling up his unfinished essay and sliding it into his bag. He paused with the strap halfway to his shoulder and frowned. "Won't they?"

"Yes," said Remus' mouth. His head shouted, _No!_

Peter nodded, yawning again. "No point sitting up, is there?"

"No," said Remus, not because he meant it, but because he needed for Peter to go away. James and Sirius were walking straight to Greyback, just as Remus had done as a child, and Remus could think of only one way to avert disaster.

McGonagall.

Remus couldn't explain it to Peter, not now. Not when every moment Remus wasted was another step James and Sirius took toward their own doom. He couldn't explain about Greyback, and he couldn't explain why he was deliberately getting his best friends in trouble with the professors.

It took Peter two minutes to gather James' and Sirius' things and start for the stairs. To Remus, it felt like an hour.

"You coming?" Peter called back to Remus when at last he reached the first step.

"In a bit. I want to, er, finish this chapter." Remus gestured lamely to his Potions book. "It might take a while, though. Don't wait up."

Yawning through a goodnight, Peter trudged up the stairs. The dormitory door clicked shut. Standing perfectly still in the center of the common room, Remus counted to ten to ensure Peter wasn't going to turn around and return.

Gryffindor Tower remained silent.

Remus careened back out through the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's indignation, and thundered down the stairs with no thoughts of silence or secrecy. Let Filch find him. Let the professors give him a month's detention for breaking curfew. Remus didn't care; he needed to see McGonagall, and it had to be soon.

Mrs. Norris crossed his path once, hissing menacingly as though to intimidate him into slowing down or returning to his dormitory, but Remus ignored her, and she slunk aside at the last moment, narrowly avoiding Remus' flying feet. Yowling and hissing, she faded into the shadows, no doubt to fetch her master, as Remus sprinted on. By the time Filch arrived, Remus would be long gone.

He reached McGonagall's quarters and pounded on the door. "Professor!" he shouted, banging again, harder. His hand ached, but the pain barely registered. "Professor McGonagall!"

When she didn't answer immediately, Remus tried the handle and found it unlocked. He threw the door wide and stumbled into the dark room.

"Professor McGonagall!"

The room was silent and still, and Remus bit back an oath of frustration. She wasn't there. Spinning on his heel, Remus charged back out the door and ran to the Transfigurations classroom. He could only pray that McGonagall was still in her office.

A light was on, leaking under the office door to give the classroom a faint glow as Remus weaved among the desks. Voices reached his ears, but he didn't pause to hear what they were saying; instead, he threw himself against the office door and beat his fist against the wood.

"Professor McGonagall!" he called, breathless from fear and exertion. The voices cut off at once. "Professor!"

When the door opened, Remus pitched forward, stumbling into McGonagall's startled hold. "Remus? What—?"

"They've snuck out!" Remus gasped, clinging to McGonagall's robes.

"What?" McGonagall asked. "Who?"

"James and Sirius! They've gone to the Forbidden Forest!"

McGonagall paled.

Chest heaving, Remus shook his head to rid it of the images – images of James and Sirius bleeding, dying. "Greyback's out there!" he moaned, raising a hand to cover his mouth. "He's out there, and they're headed straight for him! You've got to stop them, Professor, _please_! He'll kill them!"

"He'll do no such thing."

Remus' overtaxed mind couldn't dredge up any measure of surprise at Lynx's voice, and Remus only stared at him blankly, until his fears reared up once more.

"He will! Or he'll bite them! He'll hurt them! He'll— He'll—"

"Calm down, Lupin," Lynx barked. "It's not the full moon yet."

"Then he'll _take_ them and bite them _tomorrow_!" Remus shouted. "He knows they're my friends! He'll hurt them, unless I—" He gasped, and turned to McGonagall. "I've got to go with him."

McGonagall clamped her hands down on both of Remus' arms. "You will do no such thing."

"But Greyback—"

"Will not lay a hand on your friends," said McGonagall firmly. "We'll make sure of that. There's no need to put yourself in any danger."

Remus shook his head. "They're only in danger because of me! I've got to help them!"

"No." McGonagall bent down to meet Remus' eyes. "Go back to your dormitory. Lynx and I will go after Potter and Black. Do _not_ follow us, Remus. Do you understand?"

"I…" Remus felt faint. "I…"

"_Do you understand me_, Mr. Lupin?" McGonagall pressed.

Remus nodded dumbly.

"Good."

McGonagall vanished, taking Lynx with her, and Remus found himself alone in her office, feeling the world crumbling around him.

* * *

_He remembered the pain._

_Like boiling water in his veins. Like mud filling his lungs._

_The silhouette of a snout. Flashing teeth. Claws catching and tearing his flesh._

_Hot breath on his neck._

_A flash of light; a yelp of pain._

_And then sleep that was filled with silver fire._

* * *

As he sat in the common room, hugging his knees to his chest, fingers massaging the scar on his shoulder – the first scar – he wondered if this was how his mother had felt that night, when the moon rose and Remus was still lost in the woods. Hot and cold, queasy with guilt and out of her mind with worry. As the night wore on, her calls had turned into screams, almost unintelligible for the fear.

How he wanted to scream like that now.

When the portrait swung open, Remus gave a violent start and looked up, dreading the sight of a grim-faced McGonagall, come to tell Remus the worst had happened.

McGonagall was there, but James and Sirius followed her into the room, radiating frustration and indignation, but unscathed. Remus stared at them all for a long moment, arms loosening their death-grip on his legs as he let the truth sink it: they were alright. Greyback hadn't hurt them.

Sighing in relief, Remus locked eyes with McGonagall, hoping she could read the gratitude in his face.

"Remus?" Sirius asked, drawing Remus' gaze to him.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Off to bed with you," she said firmly. "You, too, Mr. Lupin. You have class in the morning, remember."

Remus nodded (though class suddenly seemed like an incredibly trivial concern), and McGonagall retreated into the corridor.

Silence filled the common room.

With an effort, Remus forced himself to move, uncurling from the vigil he'd been keeping for – how long had it been? An hour? Longer? He rose stiffly and crept toward the stairs. If he was lucky, his friends would be running on too much adrenaline, or else already descending into fatigued stupor, to wonder at his presence in the common room.

Since when was Remus lucky?

"Remus," said James, his voice hard.

Remus flinched, and he had to grab onto the doorframe to keep from bolting up the steps to safety. "Yes?" he asked without turning.

For a moment, James didn't speak, and Remus dared to hope that would be the end of it. Then: "How did McGonagall know we were going down to the forest tonight?"

Remus' eyes fell shut, and he debated once more explaining about Greyback.

Sirius found his voice before Remus could. "No… No, it was Snivellus. _He_ set us up. He probably planned to tell the professors from the start."

"And risk his own neck?" James asked coldly. Remus felt as though he'd swallowed a block of ice. James had never spoken to him like that, like he was a bit of mud on the bottom of his shoe, unworthy even of true anger. Not even before they became friends had Remus heard that tone directed at him. "He'd've known we'd tell the professors about the dare," James went on, his words like a knife to Remus' heart. "If he admitted to daring us to sneak out, he'd get in trouble, too."

"Regulus, then. He's always loved getting me in trouble." Sirius' voice held no conviction; he seemed to be pleading with Remus to deny it.

For an instant, Remus considered doing just that. It might be easier than the alternative. _There's a werewolf in the forest_. How would they react to that? Denial. Anger. Maybe condescension. Lies, they would say. Excuses like the ones they spun for professors. They wouldn't be convinced unless Remus could explain how he knew about Greyback, and he could think of no explanation except the truth.

Yes, lying might be easier, but Remus wouldn't lie to them. He'd already betrayed them to keep them alive; he wouldn't deceive them to save his own skin.

Sighing in resignation, Remus turned around, his eyes focused on the ground as he searched for the words.

"You told the professors?" James hissed.

Remus nodded and opened his mouth to explain.

"What the hell, Remus?" Sirius demanded. He crossed the room in a towering rage, looming large over Remus' smaller frame. Hands clenched into fists, Sirius stared down at Remus, a dangerous spark in his eyes. "We _trusted_ you!"

With a fleeting glance at the stairs, Remus considered running— but Sirius' hand seized his shoulder in an unforgiving grip, shoving him back against the wall. Remus yelped, but he swallowed the last of his fear and took the plunge. If they were going to hate him, it might as well be for the right reasons.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Remus said, dropping his gaze away from those furious gray eyes. "I just—"

"SAVE IT!" Sirius roared, startling Remus into silence. "Just— _Save it._ I don't want to hear it. You know what you are, Remus?" He jabbed out at Remus' shoulder, and Remus shied away, retreating from the aggressive gesture, even though his only escape carried him away from the dormitory stairs.

At Remus' fear, Sirius seemed to swell, his eyes frighteningly cold, his mouth twisted into a scowl. "You're a lying—" His hand snaked out again, digging into the same spot in Remus' shoulder, forcing him further backward. "—rotten—" Another blow; Remus couldn't force himself to draw breath. "—backstabbing—" A sofa rose up behind Remus, blocking his retreat. "—_sneak!_"

Sirius' last shove sent Remus tumbling over the top of the sofa, landing in a heap on the cushions, staring helplessly up at Sirius as James appeared beside him.

"I thought you were our friend, Remus," James said, sounding hurt.

"I _am_," Remus whispered, throat closing against the explanation he needed to get out in the open. The anger on Sirius' face, the accusation on James', stole the words away from him.

"Then why'd you go to McGonagall?" James demanded. "We've got a week worth of detention because of you!"

Something within Remus gave way, and all thoughts of explaining himself, of seeking his friends' understanding, perhaps even their forgiveness, fled in the face of a newfound rage. "Detention?" he seethed. "You've got a _detention_? How _awful_." He levered himself up so he could look James and Sirius in the eyes, though their proximity kept him balanced precariously on the sofa-back. "_Poor James._ He's got _detention_! Not like you haven't had plenty of _those_ before!"

A wand appeared suddenly in Sirius' hand, butting up against Remus' nose and cutting off his tirade.

"This isn't about the detention, _Lupin_," Sirius growled. "It's about _you_ selling us out. It's about _you_ caring more about the rules than your friends."

"_What?_" Forgetting the threat of Sirius' wand, Remus shot to his feet. To his pleasure, James and Sirius both stumbled back. "You could have died out there tonight, Sirius! You could have _died!_" _Or worse_, he added as the scar on his shoulder prickled. "Don't tell me I don't care!"

James scoffed. "Don't be thick, Remus. We weren't in any real danger!"

If only they knew. "But—"

"But nothing!" Sirius snapped, grabbing the collar of Remus' robes. "We trusted you to keep a secret, and you went crying to McGoangall! You're nothing but a pathetic little snitch!"

Sirius shoved Remus away from him, and Remus crashed into the sofa, which lurched backward at the impact. Remus scrambled to right himself, but by the time he did, Sirius had gone, and James wasn't far behind.

The anger abated, and Remus stared after his friends, heart constricting as he watched the muscles in James' back tense.

"James," he called, trying to collect his thoughts, to find something he could say that would make James understand – or at least make him_ listen_. "Please, James… I—"

"It's too late, Remus," James said, never turning. A moment later, he was gone.

Remus stared after him, sagging against the couch as the weight of those words sank in. His best friends hated him. Not because he was a werewolf – no, Remus had been prepared for _that_ eventuality; it wouldn't have hurt as bad as this. But they hadn't even let him get to that point.

They hated him for trying to save their lives.

And if he explained that to them, it would only give them another reason to loathe him. A reason they could then use to ruin his life. At least this way, only the three of them had cause to hate him.

Somehow, the thought didn't offer much consolation.

* * *

_He remembered waking in the hospital the next day._

_An itchy cocoon. The acrid odor of potions._

_Pain in his shoulder; his first scar._

_And voices in the corridor._

"_He's your _son_, John!" His mother. Tired. Tears in her voice._

_Then his father. Hard. Angry._

"_That beast in there is _not_ my son."_

_The first rejection; his second scar._

_To this day, neither scar had fully healed.  
_


End file.
